New Changes, Old Enemies, and Heavy Hearts
by NightWhisper184
Summary: FORMERLY "LIFE GOES ON." In an effort to restore some semblence of normalcy in her life, Ginny Weasley returns to Hogwarts after the War. There she meets a changed Draco, and the two eventually strike up a strange sort of not quite friendship. However, not everyone is convinced that the Slytherin's attempt at a new life is as earnest as he makes it out to be.
1. Chapter 1

She tossed and turned in her bed, groans of discomfort rising from her throat. Her sheets lay in a crumpled heap at the foot of the bed, pushed off her body by rapidly churning feet. Strands of dark red hair were splayed across the pillow from where she had whipped her head back and forth. Finally, she admitted defeat and sat up in her bed. Taking deep, shuddering breaths, she tried to calm her racing heart.

A single shaft of moonlight shone through the window across the room, illuminating her with her knees drawn tight against her chest. A sigh rushed past her lips as she glanced out the window to the darkness beyond.

Ginny licked her dry lips and tried to shake off the sluggishness from the sleepless night. Once again, dreams had plagued her all night—dreams about the battle. She kept seeing her friends and classmates being flung against the walls by rampaging trolls or dropping lifelessly to the floor after a flash of green light. How many had died that night? She did not even know anymore; too many, for sure.

The sound of her door easing open smashed through her wall of memories and brought her back to the present. "Who's there?" she called out sharply, her hand reaching for her wand on the nightstand next to her bed. After the War, she had become paranoid about being attacked again and as a result, she always kept her wand close by her side. Even though Voldemort was dead, many of his followers remained at large.

"It's just me," Hermione's soft voice answered. Ginny smiled in the darkness and jumped up out of bed to let her in. The other girl was the sister Ginny never had, and she always knew just what to say to lighten Ginny's spirits. Right now, the young woman definitely needed Hermione's comforting words.

Hermione took one look at Ginny's face and knew another nightmare had disrupted her sleep. She walked over to the younger girl and wrapped her arms around her. Hermione smoothed Ginny's hair down with her hand, the way Molly always would.

"It's alright now. It's over. They can't hurt anyone else," she whispered into Ginny's ear comfortingly. Ginny finally released all her pent-up emotions and cried on Hermione's shoulder, sobs racking her body as she wept for all she had lost.

"I miss him so much, though. I want my brother back!"

"I know. I know," Hermione murmured soothingly, rubbing small circles on Ginny's back. "Come on. Let's get you some warm milk to drink. That'll make you feel better." Ginny nodded and hastily wiped away her tears.

_Weasleys don't cry_, she reminded herself. _Weasleys are strong, no matter what._ Slowly but surely, her shoulders lifted and her eyes gazed at her surroundings more alertly. Hermione gave her an approving nod before opening the door and motioning for Ginny to go first.

The two teenagers slowly shuffled down the hall to the kitchen. Turning the light on, Hermione guided Ginny to a chair and started bustling around the room in search of a clean cup.

Molly Weasley had taken to a crazed cleaning frenzy after her son's death, and the house now gleamed brighter than ever before. However, even her furious cleaning could not keep up with the onslaught of visitors that came by to offer their condolences and discuss some new measures that could be taken to improve the newly reformed Ministry of Magic.

Kingesly Shacklebolt had been elected the new Minister just three weeks ago and had a grand plan in mind that would completely change the way the Ministry worked. Every now and then, he would visit the Burrow and talk with Arthur late into the night, huddled up in the study with one or two trusted colleagues.

"Here we go. Nothing helps late night insomnia better than a glass of hot milk," Hermione said with a sympathetic smile as she set the cup in front of Ginny. Sending her a grateful look, the younger girl wrapped her hands around it and took a tentative sip. _Get yourself together_, she commanded herself. Spine straightening, she licked her lips and took another drink.

With a sigh, Hermione slumped down in the other chair, her own mug of milk in her hands. Together, they drank their milk in silence.

A few seconds later, Ron stumbled into the kitchen, his blue eyes bloodshot and bleary. The tips of his red hair stuck out everywhere, testifying to his own restless night. Without saying a word, he got a glass out and filled it with some of the leftover milk before sitting down beside the two girls.

"So, what're you two going to do?" he asked abruptly. Hermione glanced at Ginny hesitantly, biting her bottom lip in apprehension.

Three days ago, letters had come by owl from Hogwarts, inviting Ron, Ginny, and Hermione back to school to repeat the previous year. McGonagall had nominated Ron for Perfect status again, while Hermione received the Head Girl badge.

Of course, the news had not gone over well with everyone. Ginny had immediately slammed the letter down on the table and stalked out of the room with a hard look on her face. Hermione later saw her racing around the backyard on one of her brothers' old brooms, practicing some daring Quidditch maneuvers. It was as if she thought that if she only flew fast enough and hard enough, that all her troubles would be left behind in a cloud of dust.

"Well, I think that I'd like to learn how to become an Animagus," Hermione answered with a weak smile. Transforming oneself was only taught to seventh year students in Advanced Transfiguration. It was her way of gently saying that she wanted to return to Hogwarts.

She did not mention that she also wanted to know how it felt to be the Head Girl of Gryffindor. Under the circumstances, she felt it would not be very discreet of her to let them think she just wanted to go back to school so she could be in charge. A few years ago, that might have been true, but after experiencing all that she had at the side of Harry and Ron, she knew that her friends mattered more. However, her innate love for learning could not be curbed even by the horror of the War.

Ron snorted into his cup with a scowl. "I'm not going back," he stated flatly, his expression hard as he stared down at the table. It did not matter to him that he had received a Perfect's badge. He refused to go back to the place where he had watched his brother and so many others died.

Ginny stared off into the distance, her brown eyes focusing on something the others could not see.

After the War ended, her brothers had tried to rally with her, but sometimes she seemed to go back in time, her thoughts not with them. Her parents were the most concerned for their daughter, but they could do nothing to help her. This was something she would have to work through on her own. It nearly crushed Molly and Arthur to see Ginny so quiet and withdrawn, but they knew that she would pull through it on her own time. She was strong; she would make it, in time.

With a sigh, Hermione stood up and dumped her empty mug in the sink. "Goodnight Ginny, Ron," she whispered before padding back to her room. Ron watched her leave, a crease marring his forehead. "I love her you know," he commented thoughtfully, almost to himself.

Ginny's eyes flew to her brother in shock. "What?"

"I love her," he repeated matter-of-factly. "I think I always have; I just never knew it back then. It's funny, you know? I go from thinking she's a bossy, know-it-all nightmare to seeing her as the center of the world. Every time she walks in the room, my eyes are drawn to her. I think about her all the time, even when I don't want to. Someday I'm going to gather my courage and ask her to marry me."

Ginny stared at him with wide eyes. She had just lost one brother, and now she was facing the very real possibility of loosing another. Nevertheless, she could not force him to stay with her. He had his own life to live, and she had hers. It would not be fair for her to hold him back from the one person who made him happy.

Besides, he was better off with Hermione. They completed each other, brought balance to the other's life; it was as if they were truly made for each other; soul mates, they were. It was a beautiful thing to see, but also a very painful one. Not everyone had the fortune to experience such love and dedication from another person. Therefore, it was with a bittersweet sigh that the next words sprang forth from her mouth.

"She loves you too. She told me years ago," Ginny admitted softly, forcing a smile on her face. Ron chuckled, his hands tightening around his cup. "Yeah. I'm always the last the find things out, I guess."

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**Any thoughts or suggestions for improvement are most welcome! Thanks for reading ;)**


	2. Chapter 2

The next day, Hermione started packing her things to leave for Hogwarts. Ginny unfolded her legs and stood up from the bed to help her. They carefully tucked Hermione's clothes, books, quills, and other possessions in the small trunk, working side-by-side. No words were exchanged; what they felt was more than mere words could express. Ginny glanced over at her friend as she folded a pair of socks. Her hands did the work automatically without her mind needing to interfere.

"So, you're really going then?" Ginny asked casually, her tone light.

Hermione glanced up with a knowing smile. "Yes, I'm going. I need it. I think that a bit of normalcy will help me move on with my life. Even though it won't erase the past, at least it'll take my mind off it for a while. Besides, I heard that Luna and Neville are returning. I can't leave them all alone, now can I?" she asked teasingly. The warmth in her eyes shinned out brightly at Ginny, wrapping her in a blanket of sisterly comfort.

Even though Hermione had never had a brother or sister, she imagined that this was what it felt like. _To know that you're not alone in this world, not matter what happens, is truly amazing_, she thought contentedly. The Weasleys were no longer just her friends' family. They were _her_ family. Perhaps in the future, she might finally receive the right to truly call Arthur and Molly her second parents. That is, if Ron ever came to his senses and asked her "The Big Question."

A knock on the door startled Hermione out of her musings, and she turned around to see who it was. The air whooshed out of her lungs as she saw the tall, dark-haired young man standing in the doorway.

"Harry!" she squealed, rushing over to her friend and throwing her arms around him ecstatically.

Hermione had not seen him for some time because he was staying at 13 Grimmauld place, trying to fix it up some more. Sirius's will had given the house to Harry to use as he wished. He was determined not to let the place go to waste and was currently renovating it to give to Hogwarts as a place for all the children who had no home to go back to during the summer break. He knew firsthand how it felt to return to a place that did not want him, and he had no wish for anyone else to have to have to experience that same feeling.

"Hey Hermione. It's good to see you," Harry said with a sincere smile, his eyes twinkling at his dear friend. Hermione finally stepped back from him and turned towards Ginny uncertainly. The younger girl stared at her old boyfriend, an unreadable expression on her face.

Harry licked his lips nervously before striding over to her and giving her a hug. Ginny wrapped her arms around him, feeling the warmth radiating from his skin. It felt good to be hugged, especially by Harry. Still, something did not feel right and she knew the problem lay with her.

"Harry," she breathed into his ear, a fierce longing rising in her for the bygone days when they would cuddle in front of the fire in the Gryffindor common room, a blanket lying over their laps.

Harry smiled to himself, relieved to see her more like her old self. Of course, she still had a long ways to go before she was whole, but it was a nice start.

"Ginny," he answered softly, breathing in the sweet scent of her honeysuckle scented shampoo. How he had missed her! It was like his heart had been ripped in two and the other half flung away with the winds. Now that they were together, nothing would ever take her away from him again—absolutely nothing.

Watching them, Hermione blinked away joyful tears. Her life was finally returning to normal. Her two best friends were back together, she was returning to Hogwarts, and Ron... Well, Ron was near her. That was enough for now. A familiar ache settled inside her chest as she thought about the gangly young man.

She loved him; there was no doubt about it anymore. At first, she had denied it with all her heart, saying that he was just a friend and would never care about her like that anyway. However, her feelings were too big to be contained now.

_Oh, Ron. Why do you have to be so stubborn? _she demanded silently, her fists clenching in an effort to restrain herself from pulling the ends of her hair out in frustration. The two had shared a few kisses, but ever since the Final Battle ended, interaction between them had settled down remarkably. Ron had gone back to treating her with a casual indifference, as if she was nothing more than a slightly distant friend of his.

Ginny pulled back from Harry's arms and gazed up into his face. Love and tenderness shone in his eyes behind his glasses. The two remained locked in their embrace, staring deep into each other's eyes. Ginny felt something shift unpleasantly inside of her as she studied his face. There was slight stubble on his firm chin from not shaving that morning. The ends of his untidy black hair swept across his forehead, and her fingers itched to brush them away.

_I care for him so much_, she realized. _But I do not love him, and I don't know if I ever will anymore._

Harry saw her eyes darken and his heart clenched as she turned away. Ginny cleared her throat, reaching down to finish folding the socks. The curtain of red hair hid her face from his view, but he already knew what he would find there. The truth slapped him hard in the face, causing him to stumble back with wide eyes.

"Oh, Ginny. I've waited too long, haven't I?" he gasped, his arms hanging limply at his side.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks to new beta reader, **Marinka**!**

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Ginny continued stuffing pairs of socks in the trunk, her back still turned to him.

"I'm sorry Harry, but I can't do this right now," she replied bluntly. The pain in her eyes made him want to gather her into his arms and ride away with her into the sunset where nothing would ever hurt his sweet Ginny again. However, he knew that she would never let him do that; she was simply too stubborn and independent to let others take care of her problems for her.

Hermione took that as her cue to slip out of the room, leaving Harry standing in the middle of the room helplessly. He threw his hands in the air with a scowl.

"What did I do, Ginny? Did I not love you enough? Did I not comfort you enough after Fr-" he started angrily, but she cut him off before he could finish.

"Don't you dare say his name!" she commanded sharply, her lips thinning.

Harry's eyes widened in shock and his mouth dropped open. She had never taken that sort of tone with anyone, not even when she and Ron had gotten into an argument and started to hex each other at the end of her fourth year. She had especially never spoken to Harry like that. Her heart must truly be hurting if she was trying to push away the man she loved. At least, he had thought she loved him. Now, however, it seemed that was not the case, or else she would not be acting this way.

Harry immediately felt ashamed for thinking that way. Of course she still loved him! She was just mourning her brother. This was to be expected. All he could do was help her through it and let her know just how much he loved her.

"Ginny, I'm sorry," he began in a more gentle tone, walking forward to stroke her cheek comfortingly.

However, she turned her head away. "Please, Harry. Don't. Just don't." By now, she was just hoping that he would go away before he saw how much this was hurting her. She cared about him, but not the way he wanted her to. It was pure torture to see the sadness and confusion reflected in his eyes as he stared at her.

_Why? Why don't you love me?_ they seemed to ask her in accusation. _You said you loved me! But you lied. You lied to me. _

Ginny yearned to yell out that she never meant to hurt him, that she was only doing what was necessary for the both of them. It was time to move on; she could feel it inside, growing like a sickness within her. The blackness and heartache threatened to swallow her whole, but she resisted the pull, knowing that her family needed her to be strong for them.

She was the one the others leaned on. She was Ginny, the invincible Weasley. Nothing ever hurt her. Only Hermione knew the truth—that Ginny was much more human than anyone was. Late at night, she would stare at the ceiling, wondering if she had made the right choices. Nevertheless, it was too late to go back. The only option left to her was to move forward and hope that she did not do too much damage to the people around her.

His hands dropping to his sides again, Harry examined her face. Whatever he saw there seemed to have convinced him that she was serious. Finally, he sighed, turned around, and walked out of the room. As if in sympathy with his breaking heart, the wind outside moaned. With every step he took away from her, he could feel the chipped pieces drifting further and further away. Harry shook his head in anger at himself.

_Stop thinking about it. She'll get over this. I just have to give her some time. Yeah, that's all she needs. Once she sees that she still loves me, she'll come back and I can finally put this thing to good use_, he mused as he rubbed his thumb against the smooth black box in his pocket.

Ginny threw the pair of socks in her hand down on the bed. Slumping down on the floor, she wrapped her arms around her knees with a sigh.

_Oh, Harry. I'm just not ready for this. I saw horrible things during the Battle for Hogwarts, things that still haunt my nightmares. I just... I want to move on with life, get away from serious stuff. I'm not the same person anymore. I'm just not._ _You deserve better, Harry. I care about you too much to hold you back. I want to put the past behind me, and like it or not, that includes you. There's a nice, sweet girl out there whose heart is ready to love you more than anyone else has every loved you—but that girl isn't me. I'm sorry, Harry. I'm so sorry for hurting you. But I have to move on. Maybe I can find myself again at Hogwarts. Maybe I'll finally find some peace within the castle walls. Godric knows I could use some right about now. _

After rubbing her eyes, Ginny stood up and walked down the stairs to where Ron, Hermione, and her parents were sitting in the kitchen discussing something in hushed tones. _Probably me_, Ginny mused, the corners of her lips lifting in rueful amusement. Clearing her throat to get their attention, she raised her chin determinedly.

"Mum, Dad. I changed my mind. I'm going back to Hogwarts."

They stared at her in shock, their mouths hanging open. Finally, Molly snapped out of it and rushed forward, grabbing her daughter and crushing her against her ample bosom. "Oh, Ginny! I'm so proud of you! Oh! Oh!"

The woman could not find the words to express her feelings as she sobbed into Ginny's shoulder. Arthur slowly stood up from his chair and walked across the room to encase his wife and daughter in his arms. The shudders racing through his body were the only visible evidence of his relief. Soon, they were all hugging, laughing, and crying together, too emotional to speak.

A few moments later, they reluctantly pulled away from Ginny, tear trails running down their faces. Molly patted the young woman's cheeks, her brown eyes shinning with love and tears.

"Well, that's a good girl. Go on now; we don't have much time to pack. Go, go!" She shooed Hermione and Ginny up the stairs, a joyful half sob, half laugh rising from her throat as she clasped her hands together under her chin. Arthur wrapped his arms around his wife's rounded waist, and she leaned back against his chest.

"Oh, Arthur. Our Ginny is going to be okay," Molly whispered in a choked voice between hiccups.

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**Draco will be introduced in chapter five. Thanks for reading!**


	4. Chapter 4

As soon as the bedroom door closed, Hermione rounded on Ginny with her arms crossed over her chest stubbornly. "Why?" she demanded, not unkindly. Ginny shot her a look before striding across the room and dragging her trunk out from under the bed. Her back turned resolutely towards her friend, she began stuffing random items into the trunk.

"Why what?" Ginny asked as the silence lengthened. Why could they not just leave her alone? Why could they not just accept her decision and say nothing more about it? _Because they love me and are worried about me_, she answered herself wryly.

Hermione's arms dropped and she walked over to put a hand on Ginny's shoulder. "Hey. I know things have been hard, really hard. But we'll get through it together. After all, isn't that what sisters are for?" she asked warmly. Ginny smiled in return.

"Yeah. I guess you're right. It's just that everything's different now, and I don't know how to deal with it," she admitted self-consciously. She had always been the strong one, the one people came to for advice. Now here she was admitting that she did not know what to do; it was a very humbling experience—one that she desperately hoped she would never have to go through again.

Hermione snorted, causing Ginny to blink in surprise. "Oh, come on. Of course you know how to deal with it! By letting others help you," she stated matter-of-factly. Before Ginny could reply, the door opened and Ron stalked into the room.

"Tell me you're joking! You can't be going back! Not after what happened!" Ron exclaimed. His sister scowled at him. "I'm going and that's final. Now stop telling me what I should and shouldn't do!"

Her temper had finally snapped from everyone trying to tell her to go back to Hogwarts, do not go back to Hogwarts, marry Harry, cheer up, eat more, blah, blah, blah. She did not need others to run her life. She knew what she was going to do, and nobody was going to stop her!

When Ron saw the familiar fire in her brown eyes, he smiled in satisfaction. _Nothing gets her madder than being told what to do_, he thought with a snicker.

Ginny suddenly realized what he was doing and returned the smile. "Oh, Ron!" she breathed, hugging him fiercely. "Thank you. You're the best brother in the world."

Cheeks flushing red, he gently pushed her away. "Yeah, well. You'll do good there. I know you will. In fact, you'll do fantastic because I'll be there to keep an eye on you and make sure you stay out of trouble," he added casually, his hands stuck in his pockets. Glancing up at them sheepishly, he awaited their reactions.

Hermione gasped in shock, her mouth forming a perfect 'o'. Finally, she snapped out of it and threw her arms around him ecstatically. "This is the best news I've heard in weeks! Now we'll all be together. Well, the three of us at least," she corrected herself quietly, her eyes downcast.

Ginny's lips thinned. Harry had refused to return to Hogwarts. Instead, he planned to go straight to Auror training. Kingsley was anxious to hire him for the job because so many of the Aurors that had worked at the old Ministry were either corrupt, dead, or inexperienced. Ginny could tell that becoming an Auror meant a lot to Harry, and she did not want to take that away from him by insisting he return to Hogwarts.

Hermione, on the other hand, believed he still needed his education. The two had had a fierce debate on the matter and had parted ways rather tensely. Today was the first day they had seen each other in two weeks. All their frustrations had disappeared as soon as they laid eyes on one another. Their friendship had survived much worse than a simple disagreement, and they knew the importance of forgiveness and compromise. However, the entire time they were arguing, Hermione had not mentioned that Hogwarts would not be the same without both of her best friends at her side. She felt that it would be a "hit below the belt," as Arthur Weasley was fond of saying.

"Muggles! They come up with the oddest sayings, don't you think?" he would ask cheerfully, much to his wife's exasperation. "Arthur, quit fooling around with those bizarre phrases and half-finished machines you have stuffed in the shed. You're a _wizard__,_ not a _muggle_. So quit acting like one, for Merlin's sake!"

Hermione shook her head and forced herself back to the present. Ron's incompetence at packing gave her the chance to ramble on about something and forget Harry's absence for the moment. It had worked before, and it worked now.

"Alright, let's go ahead and finish packing. Now, remember the proper trunk organization Mrs. Weasley taught us: clothes on bottom, books and other heavy items in the middle, with the lightweights on top," Hermione instructed as she demonstrated with her own halfway packed trunk.

Ron rolled his eyes at her. "I've been packing my own trunk for seven years! Give it a rest, 'Mione!"

Ginny smiled to herself as she watched the two argue back and forth on proper packing techniques. It was just like old times when Hermione had stayed over at the Burrow. They would fight over simple things and then get mad at each other for a few hours before finally making up.

_They're lucky to have each other_, Ginny thought with a sad smile, carefully folding a Weird Sisters shirt. _Not everyone finds their other half, and those that do, don't always keep them._


	5. Chapter 5

Draco stared up at the dark curtain above his head, his hands folded neatly underneath his head. His blond hair was rumpled and his shirt collar was crooked. The corners of his eyes tightened minutely as he lazily found strange patterns in the cloth. Every now and then, he would blink, sending the designs swimming around the insides of his eyelids.

His chest steadily rose and fell, the silence bearing down on him unsympathetically. Words and half thought-out phrases drifted through his mind with each smooth breath. The sleeves of his wrinkled white silk shirt were rolled up, the edges uneven. A small smile crossed his lips for a moment before it faded.

_Time—it comes and goes, never staying in one place for long. It's funny, actually. We dismiss it when we have plenty, but once it runs out, we suddenly cry out for more, _Draco thought absently, his eyes tracing a loose thread in the bed curtain. Lately his thoughts had turned inward, as if that would help him puzzle out what he ought to do with his life. _Not many options_, he mused with a sigh.

_One: go to __Azkaban__ for murder, attempted murder, crimes against humanity charges, et cetera, et cetera. Two: go back to Hogwarts and be subjected to all the staring, whispers, glares, and curses._ At that thought, he snorted in contempt, the sound eerily loud in the silence. _As if. Now, where was I? Oh, yes_. _Option_ _three: lie here all day and night until I die._ The latter option held slightly more appeal than the previous two. Draco grinned humorlessly to himself, his teeth shinning in the darkness.

_How pathetic I've become. Next thing you know, I'll be begging for change in the corner of the Leaky Cauldron. __Hmph__._ What other choice did he have, though? _Father is facing __the possibility of__ a __Dementor's__ Kiss, Mother's charges are slowly being dismissed because of how she helped Potter, and public opinion is firmly turned against the __Malfoy__ name. Eh, one out of three isn't too bad I suppose._

It was not as if he could go out and get a job, Merlin forbid. _Even if I _did_ want to work for a living_, he mused with a disgusted grimace on his face,_ no one would hire me because of my last name_.

He knew what people said about him and his family behind their backs. Sometimes, the braver ones would say them to their faces. Murderers, Death Eaters, demon spawn, You-Know-Who's right hand family. Of course, that last one had expired long ago. However, the truth never mattered to the public—only the majority's opinion did.

_If enough people thought that I was __Scarhead's__ brother,_ (he shivered at the mere thought), _then nothing I said would convince them otherwise. Is it fair? No, but it's life. _My_ life, __as a matter of fact__. _

Draco had always been a firm believer in natural selection. Only the strong survived—the rest did not. It was the simple truth of life. However, it seemed that people like Saint Potter and his two sidekicks had slightly different opinions on the matter.

_Bloody bleeding hearts_, he thought sourly. _Not everyone makes it in this world._ If they did, then no one would have any status whatsoever. Not everyone could be the master. There had to be servants to serve him, or else he was not a true master, now was he? Him being a general term, of course.

_I'm certainly no master_, Draco mused, grimacing ruefully. _Not anymore_.

Luxury and wealth was all he had ever known. He had been raised in the belief that most people were beneath him; that the world revolved around the powerful, with the Malfoy name being the most prominent. After the Great War, however, the circumstances had changed. Most of the changes were for the worse, at least as far as the old families were concerned. No more did the wealthy, prominent pureblood families control the Ministry. After Kingsley Shacklebolt became the new Minister of Magic, he changed things—so many things. Fair, the public called it; democratic; an opportunity for equal representation. However one labeled the new system, it did not bode well for the Malfoys and their colleagues.

_And where does that leave me? Stuck here with nothing to do but ponder the meaning of life_, Draco answered himself with a humorless chuckle. He absently glanced over at his left forearm. The black snake and skull had not so much as lightened after Voldemort's death.

_I'm stuck with it—forever. _

His grey eyes seemed dull and lifeless. He had always been pale, but now he resembled a badly resurrected inferi. There were bags under his eyes and his skin had an unhealthy grey tint. In fact, he looked much as he did his sixth year when he was stressing over how to kill Dumbledore. He remembered that year well—too well, in fact. Sometimes, he would wake up gasping for breath in the middle of the night as he relived that awful moment on top of the astronomy tower. His bed would be soaked with sweat, his eyes watery and his face flushed feverishly.

He was never able to go back to sleep after such a nightmare.

_Aunt Bellatrix had it easy; __she got to leave this life behind. With my luck though, I would end up a ghost like the Bloody Baron, forever doomed to wander the halls of my torment and remember my __sodding__ miserable life._

A knock at the door interrupted his bitter musings. Draco slowly sat up in his bed, carefully pulling down the sleeves of his shirt. It would do no good since everyone already knew he had it, but he could not help but try to hide it. It was not that he was ashamed of it, per say, but it had become a habit to keep it from everyone at Hogwarts. As they say, old habits are hard to break, especially the not-so-good ones.

"What now?" he called out wearily, his muscles tightening unconsciously.

His mother's voice, quiet but firm, answered him. "Draco, your father wants to talk to you."

Draco barred his teeth in frustration at her words. His relationship with his father had not been the same since the War ended. Conversations were tense between them, interaction limited severely with neither party protesting. It was hard to look at the man he had once thought the world about and to know just how human he really was—how _weak _he was. Carefully constructed illusions had been shattered when the Dark Lord came back to power. The resulting shards had pierced both Lucius's and Draco's hearts, lodging themselves deep down where it hurt the most.

Finally, after taking a deep, calming breath, Draco straightened his shoulders and opened his door. Greeting his mother with a nod, he strode down the hall ahead of her, his long legs eating up the distance. He was anxious to get this meeting over with so that he could go back to staring at his bed curtain. He mentally winced at his thoughts.

_That sounded more pathetic than I thought it would._

At the end of the hall were bronze-handled double doors. With a final deep breath, Draco pulled the doors open, his face a blank slate, free of any trace of emotion that could later be used against him. It was an old game he had played, once willingly, eagerly even, but now only by necessity and habit.

Narcissa followed her son into the drawing-room, her hands clasped together tightly. The bottom of her long black robes swished gently with every step. The pale, stern faces of the portraits stared down at Draco as he waited impatiently in front of his father's chair. The silence pressed down on him until he squirmed, finally attracting the man's attention.

Lucius glanced up from the paper he was reading, his eyes narrowing. He did not overlook the crumpled sleeves of his son's shirt. Taking a mental note of the sight for later review, the man laid down the newest Daily Prophet edition and cleared his throat. He pressed his hands together under his pointy chin thoughtfully, his long silver hair falling forward.

"Ah, Draco. There you are. I called you here to discuss your imminent return to Hogwa—," Lucius started smoothly.

"I'm not going," the young man interrupted, his eyes taking on a flint-like quality. Narcissa pursed her lips disapprovingly, her fingers tightening on the back of her husband's chair as she shook her head warningly.

Lucius studied his son in the tomblike silence, his eyes assessing every inch of him. _He looks like me_, the man mused with a frown. _And his tongue is as sharp as mine was at his age. It's just too bad that he thinks he can use it against his own father. The boy has much to learn. _

"I don't think you understood me. You will be going to Hogwarts, whether you like it or not. Think of it as a chance to restore your reputation. We will all lose face if you do not return. Do you want the public thinking we are weak? Besides, I hear Granger and Weasley are going back. And with Potter off chasing his foolish dream of becoming an Auror, they will have no one to hide behind. Of course, you are not to make trouble. We can't have the Malfoy name besmirched further. However, you can...take the opportunity to see just where their loyalties lie. Arthur's youngest child, the girl, is also returning. The latest news in the Daily Prophet is that she has 'broken up' with Potter, as you young ones say these days. Her heart must be very tender right now...," he trailed off suggestively, one eyebrow raised.

Draco openly sneered at him, unable to believe what his father was asking of him. "You want me to go back to that despicable place just so you can have some _revenge_? I am not some house-elf you can order around. Get someone else to do you dirty work, because I'm sick of it!"

With that said, he turned around and stalked out of the room without another word.

Lucius stared at the retreating back of his furious son. He did not so much as blink at the ear shattering bang that echoed through the room as Draco angrily shoved the doors open, sending them crashing back against the stone wall. A smile played on the man's pale lips as he pondered over his current predicament.

"He has your temper," Lucius remarked lightly to his wife, his gaze never straying from the now empty hall. Narcissa sighed and walked around the chair, getting down on her knees in front of him. Her eyes gazed up at her husband pleadingly.

"Lucius, you know how much I hate it when the both of you fight. We're a family! Our bond is the only thing the Ministry cannot take from us. Only we, ourselves, can destroy it. And I fear that is what we are doing! Please, try to see it his way. Hogwarts is the place where he spent seven years with that Potter boy. It's where he slaved away in that horrid room, trying to find some way to let the Death Eaters into the school. He was almost forced to kill Dumbledore there. It's the place where Vincent, the Crabbes' boy, died along with so many others of his classmates. Do you really have to force him to go back to all that?"

Lucius raised a finely sculpted eyebrow at her. "And what, my dear, do you think will happen to him if he does not go back? What will he do? Stay locked up in his room for the rest of his life? The war is over. We must learn to adapt. We can no longer depend on our vast banking account to see us through life; that is why Draco must go back to Hogwarts. He needs to get a proper education and go on to work for the Ministry so that our prestige will be restored once more. He is our last hope, Narcissa. There are no more children in our future; the Malfoy name ends with Draco, and I will not have it sullied by a _bum_ of a son. He will just have to man up and face Hogwarts once and for all."

Seeing her less than convinced expression, he changed his tactics. "Narcissa, _Cissy_," he whispered, taking her hands and kissing them softly. "Our only chance at getting on with our lives is to make an effort to. Draco is strong. He'll get over it soon enough."

Lucius stroked Narcissa's cheek, his eyes warmer and more loving than they had been in years. After nearly loosing his family because of the Dark Lord, he now appreciated them so much more.

Narcissa frowned up at him before getting to her feet with a sigh. "Ohhh, my bones did not ache this much last year," she moaned. Her husband chuckled under his breath as he stood up in front of her.

"But you're even more beautiful now than you were then," he murmured into her ear, his arms wrapping around her slender waist. After a slow, heartfelt kiss, they made their way out of the room together, their hands still entwined.


	6. Chapter 6

Three days later, Draco found himself standing in Kings Cross Station, on Platform 9 and ¾ with a scowl on his face. Smoke drifted from the large, red locomotive. Students pushed luggage trolleys towards the train, waving goodbye to their family members. The whistle sounded, reminding Draco that he still needed to board the train and find a compartment.

_Blast you, Father. Blast you straight to Azkaban._

Carefully negotiating the smoke-filled platform, he pushed his way through the station. Students and parents alike stared at him as he passed, though he seemingly took no notice of the wide eyes and whispered curses. After a painstaking search, he finally found a small, empty compartment near the back of the train. Stowing his luggage away, Draco sat down on the seat and gazed out the window wordlessly. He did not expect anyone to want to sit with him, not even his "friend" Blaise Zabini, a fellow Slytherin and pureblood.

Therefore, he was very surprised, and a trifle dismayed, when the compartment door slid open. Draco glanced up with a scowl, his eyes flashing dangerously. If he had not spent years controlling his emotions, he would have let out a gasp of shock when he saw just who was standing at the door.

"Oh, I didn't know this one was taken. I'll find another one," Ginny Weasley mumbled under her breath as she took a step back. Her eyes roamed the compartment warily.

Draco sourly mused that she was probably thinking of all the gossip she could spread about him coming back to Hogwarts. He opened his mouth to tell her to leave him alone, but there must have been a communication problem with his brain for what tumbled out was definitely _not_ what he had wanted to say. _What are you saying?! Shut up, shut up you stupid nitwit!_ Nevertheless, the words spewed forth regardless of his desperate attempt to snatch them back before they reached Ginny's ears.

"No, it's fine. It's not like anyone else is going to sit here anyway."

Although his tone was even and his expression unreadable, Ginny seemed to find something in his eyes that made her pause. Neither one of them could believe that Draco was actually offering to share his compartment with a Weasley. Ginny licked her dry lips, her eyes wide in disbelief. For some reason, she did not walk away to find another compartment to sit in. Instead, she stood there, the two halves of her mind wrestling for control. Did she trust him and sit down? Or did she run away like a dog with its tail between its legs?

Her indecision must have shown, for his entire body suddenly tensed, as if in preparation of a blow. "If you don't mind, I would rather not be subjected to the stares and whispers, so if you're going to get in, then do it already. If not, then kindly leave as soon as possible," Draco demanded coolly before turning his head and staring out the window again. The reflection in the mirror showed a tight jaw and silver eyes full of misery.

With a disgruntled grumble, Ginny stacked her heap of luggage beside his and sat down cautiously on the seat across from him. Tense quiet stretched between them, each movement seeming unusually loud in the deafening silence. The train slowly began pulling out of the station, the whistle sounding shrilly. Ginny shifted uncomfortably on the seat, her fingernails scraping against the leather. Draco winced with each squeak until he finally could not stand it anymore.

"Would you stop that?! Great Merlin, Weasley. Do you have to be so loud?" he hissed, his eyes flashing in irritation. For some reason, the sight stirred an unexpected laugh from deep within her. Draco stared at her like she was crazy as she rocked back and forth in silent mirth. Confusion was written on his face.

_Is she having a seizure or something?_ he wondered uneasily. He could just imagine her dying at his feet, her eyes bulging out. Her brother would immediately bust in and murder him in a very violent, very painful, and very bloody way. A horrified shiver ran down his spine at the thought. If he was going to die, he wanted it to be for something he actually did, not because the Weaselette choose a very inopportune time to have a heart attack.

"Bloody heck, Weasley. Don't go dying on me or anything," he muttered as he stared down his nose at her, eyes wide in what appeared to be panic. Ginny eventually calmed down enough to speak, although hiccups still plagued her for a few more moments.

"I didn't..." _hic!_ "...know..." _hic!_ "...that you..." _hic!_ "...cared," she finally finished with an impish grin, her eyes sparkling for the first time in months.

Draco responded with a rude snort and raised one eyebrow at her. "I don't. I simply have no wish to die a horrible death at the hands of your hotheaded brother for merely being at the wrong place at the wrong time if, and when, you die," he responded disdainfully.

Ginny inclined her head towards him in acknowledgement, knowing Ron would do exactly that if anything happened to her with Draco close by. Even if the Slytherin was not beside her, Ron would still send a few curses his way as an added precaution. Silence settled once more between them, this time not nearly as oppressive as before.


	7. Chapter 7

Draco stared out of the window, a frown creasing his forehead.

Ginny took the opportunity to let her eyes roam over his figure, seeing him as if for the first time. His silky black robes hung on him more so than usual, evidence of the fact that he had lost weight. There was still a grayish tinge to his skin, although now there were splotches of the palest pink in his cheeks. Ginny noticed the way the tips of his silvery blond hair hung over his eyes, very different from earlier years where he had slicked it back with hair gel. Her gaze trailed down his face to the sharp point of his chin. There was a slight mark on the left side of his jaw that stood out against his usual pale white color. It seemed oddly shaped, as if placed there deliberately. Ginny glanced up in confusion and was horrified to find that he was staring back to her.

_Drat! Just what I need, Malfoy thinking I'm mooning over him_.

"Just what are you looking at?" Draco demanded with a scowl.

Ginny resisted the urge to snicker and instead merely crossed her arms stubbornly, knowing it would irritate him even more. "Right now, I have no idea really." It was so amusing to bother him; he made it so easy.

Before the war, she had never really had the chance to laugh and joke with Harry. When not busy going off on adventures with Ron and Hermione, he was always so serious, his mind on Voldemort's return or his godfather's death. Of course, Ginny never held this against him, but it was hard being around him at times. She had grown up with six brothers and had come to love a good prank or clever invention. With Harry, however, she had always felt the need to tone herself down and become more feminine for him. Though she knew he loved her for who she was, she still did not feel like herself around him. He was always protecting her, and she never got the chance to show herself capable of protecting him for a change.

Draco eyed her scornfully. _What was I thinking, letting her sit here? I must be mad_, he thought morosely. _Yes, I've finally gone round the bend. Father's going to have to send me to St. Mungo. At least they'll give me nice candies to snack on in the loony bin. _

To distract himself from the very real possibility of his craziness, the young man tried to think of something to say. "So, why aren't you with Granger and Weaselbee?" he finally asked casually. Ginny glanced up in surprise at his question. She did not know how to respond to his civility. To be honest, she had never had a real conversation with him and certainly not one such as this.

"Hermione is the new Head Girl, and she had to sit in another compartment with the Head Boy. Ron's a perfect again, so he had to patrol the corridor with the rest of the perfects," she answered slowly, her words carefully thought out.

Draco snickered when he heard what she said about Ron. "I never really thought of Weaselbee as 'perfect' material. He is, how shall I say it... not the quickest wand in the shop, if you catch my drift." _And yet he still managed to get in more N.E.W.T. level classes than I did. He's either bloody lucky or I'm an idiot. _He had the uncomfortable feeling it was the latter.

To his utter shock, instead of getting angry with him for insulting her brother, Ginny actually chuckled. "I know, right? His chest puffed up three sizes when he got the badge, although he would never admit it in a million years. He's getting as bad as Percy was," she remarked with a wry smile. Their laughter died down, and they lapsed into an awkward silence, avoiding each other's eyes.

_Did we just do what I thought we did? Laughing? With Malfoy_ _of all people? Never though I'd see the day_, Ginny mused with wide eyes as she stared resolutely at the floor.

Her chest ached as she imagined what Harry would say about the situation. Her vision blurred, remembering the way he looked at her before he stormed out of her room. Anger and hurt had been written all over his face, his eyes burning with frustration behind his glasses. _I didn't mean to hurt you, Harry. I honestly didn't!_

Discreetly wiping her eyes, Ginny took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. She was a Weasley, and Weasleys were strong, no matter what. She refused to become weepy at the mere thought of her old flame. _I can do this without him. I don't need anyone to hold me up. I can hold myself up!_

Draco snuck a sideways glance at his companion and was startled to see her quickly wiping away a tear. He had never seen her cry before. Certainly, he had seen her hex other students older than her, himself including. He had seen her so furious that her cheeks flushed as red as her flaming hair and her eyes got a scary demonized look in them. Very rarely had he seen her do anything as weak as crying.

It was disconcerting to realize that the strong, spirited young woman he thought he knew was just as vulnerable as everyone else was. Lately, he had found out the hard way just how human people really were; he just never thought that it would apply to someone like the Weaselette.

_What could she have to cry about anyway?_ he pondered resentfully. _Her life's perfect. Potter following her like a lost puppy, her father promoted in the Ministry, and her so-called house newly rebuilt. _

He had read about it all in the Daily Prophet, which seemed to be reporting anything to do with the name Potter or Weasley. Honestly, though. It was simply infuriating to buy the newspaper and see nothing but his rivals' faces plastered all over it.

Suddenly, a vague memory of sitting in the Great Hall at Hogwarts right after Potter killed the Dark Lord rose to his mind unbidden. He indistinctly remembered someone's body being buried in the new school cemetery, Ginny and her mother leaning against each other for support.

_Wasn't it one of the Weasley twins? Frederick? Freddy? Or was it the other one? George, I think his name was._ No matter. The fact remained that she had lost her brother. Something twisted unpleasantly inside his chest at this memory.

_I guess we all lost something precious that day, some more so than others. _

The train slowly chugged onward, the rolling hills of the countryside dancing past the window. Darkness fell and a small, magical light flickered on above their heads.

Ginny fought against falling asleep, but the restless night before took its toll on her. Her head slowly slid down from its resting place on the back of the seat and she eventually mumbled drowsily, stretched out on the seat, and drifted off to unconsciousness. A few strands of her hair stuck to her freckled cheek, the scattered brown spots shinning in the moonlight that seeped in from the misted window.

While she slept, Draco watched her, listening to her steady breathing. Her chest rose and fell with each inhalation. Eyelids fluttering gently, she twisted around with a quiet moan, her head whipping back and forth on the seat. He caught a few indistinct words tumbling forth from her mouth as she dreamed. The Slytherin snorted in contempt as he heard her whisper Harry's name repeatedly.

_She's lucky to still have something to hold onto. She could marry Potter tomorrow, settle down, and have some kids. Me? I'll forever be remembered as the man who killed Dumbledore even though Snape was the one who actually spoke the words that ended his life. You-Know-Who's prodigy, they call me. What a legacy._

Draco sighed heavily, allowing his composure to slip ever so slightly. His eyes tightened with dread as he pondered his uncertain future. The window fogged over in time with his exhalations, the mist slowly growing and shrinking every second. His heart beat a rapid tune in his chest.

_I just want to get on with my life, to get this year over with as soon as possible. I don't want to be the big, bad monster who eats little first years for breakfast and will curse you as soon as look at you anymore. I just want to be normal, for once. Normal._ _Yes, I quite like the sound of that—it's just too bad that it'll never happen. _

Ginny stirred, a sigh escaping her lips, and her eyes slowly fluttered open. The train let loose a loud whistle as it gradually pulled into Hogsmead Station. After stretching her arms high above her head with a yawn, she glanced around. Draco was staring out of the window with a troubled expression, his eyes strangely distant and unfocused. The Gryffindor cleared her throat self-consciously, effectively snapping him out of whatever daydream he was in.

Draco's head whipped around so fast that she almost expected to hear an accompanying snap. He stood up abruptly, towering over her. Ginny hastily jumped up as well in a knee-jerk reaction. It was only to be expected with her recent luck that her head slammed into his chin, sending him staggering back.

"Merlin, Weasley. You're going to be the death of me," Draco growled out after he finally caught his breath, rubbing his chin resentfully. "Now move! I can't breathe with you crowding me like that," he snapped. Trying in vain to shove her away from him, Draco let out an angry snarl when he only succeeded in making her elbow smash into his gut.

Ginny scowled up at him and squeezed past his lean form to grab her trunk off the rack. After watching her struggle with lifting the heavy trunk from its resting place high above her head, the Slytherin sighed and reached up to tug it out for her. "Here," he said sharply, shoving it at her, before grabbing his own, hefting it up and out of the rack with a grunt, and striding out the door. The last thing she heard before he disappeared was, "Good grief, Weasley. What do you have in there? Bricks?"

Ginny automatically stuck her tongue out at his back the way she would have done with her brothers. Shaking her head at her own childishness, she griped her trunk handle and trudged out of the compartment after him.


	8. Chapter 8

The Great Hall looked the same as she remembered. The high ceiling reflected the night's sky and candles floated around lazily. The four House tables were back in their proper places in the middle of the room. At the end of the room, the professors sat down at the High Table and began conversing together in low tones.

Professor Flitwick jumped up from his seat and waved a few students over to him, whispering something in their ears. They nodded in agreement and ran to their places in the choir box. With a wave of his wand, the students began singing the school song; the sound soothed Ginny's ragged nerves. They might not have their frogs with them, but they still sounded beautiful to her—even if it was a silly song that reminded her too much of Professor Dumbledore.

_"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,_

_Teach us something please,_

_Whether we be old and bald,_

_Or young with scabby knees,_

_Our heads could do with filling,_

_With some interesting stuff,_

_For now they're bare and full of air,_

_Dead flies and bits of fluff,_

_So teach us things worth knowing,_

_Bring back what we've forgot,_

_Just do your best, we'll do the rest,_

_And learn until our brains all rot."_

Above the steady chorus of the choir, the hall was filled with laughter and easy conversation. The only table not taking part in the lively celebration were the Slytherins. Only a few students from that House had returned for their seventh year, and many of the younger ones' parents had decided to homschool them.

The harsh glares at the far end of the room did not damper the rest of the student's cheerfulness in the slightest, however. They deliberately ignored the gloomy atmosphere being projected from the silent Slytherins.

The sudden sound of the Great Hall doors creaking open startled the students, and a wave of stillness swept the room. Only soft whispers could be heard as everyone watched the first years walk forward behind a plump Professor Sprout. The young eleven year olds continued up the aisle and did not stop until they reached the foot of the High Table where a rickety four-legged wooden stool sat waiting.

McGonagall carefully placed a battered hat on the stool and stood back. The hat opened its slit near the brim and began singing a lively tune. Ginny smiled as she saw the delighted first years exchange grins with one another. She had always enjoyed the Sorting Ceremony. It was almost as if she was up there once again, waiting to be Sorted into Gryffindor.

_I wonder what my life would have been like if I did not become a Gryffindor. Would I be terribly different? Or does House really matter as much as everyone seems to think it does? _

Enthusiastic applause echoed through the hall as the last notes of the song rang out and slowly faded. Finally, McGonagall cleared her throat and proceeded to call the students to come up to the Sorting Hat to be sorted into their respective houses. In the end, Gryffyndor ended up with fifty-two new students, Hufflepuff with forty-two, Ravenclaw with forty-one, and Slytheryn with only twenty.

The stunned looks on the other students' faces amused Ginny when a little girl with a bright, cheerful smile ran over to the Serpent table and sat down beside a scowling Draco. The girl attempted to strike up a conversation with the young man, but he shook her off angrily. Even when he slid down a few seats, the girl followed Draco and smiled up at him. Ginny almost laughed at the horrified expression on his face when the girl snuggled up to him, her tiny arms wrapping around his waist. The other Slytherins stared at the trapped young man, their mouths hanging open incredulously.

Only the loud clap of McGonagall's hands brought their attention back to the front of the room.

"Students, I would like to welcome you all back to another year at Hogwarts. The past two and a half years have been very challenging on all of us. However, I know that if we all try to put the past aside, we can work together to build a better future."

"But first, I have a few announcements to make. Reginald Blackhurst has kindly agreed to become our new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor." Uncertain claps echoed through the hall as the students wondered how long _this_ teacher would last. The tall, barrel-chested man smiled at their wary expression.

"Taking over my position as Transfiguration professor will be a close friend of mine by the name of Amaylia Dingelberry. I trust that you will treat her with the same amount of respect as you did me," McGonagall added threateningly, her eyes narrowing behind thick, gold-rimmed glasses as she gazed at each individual student.

"Also, first years should note that the Forbidden Forest is strictly off-limits to all students. Hogsmead visits by those students years three and above will start in three weeks. Do not forget that Quidditch try outs are in four weeks; be sure to rest up the night before. Thank you," she finished. Another clap of her hands had the plates overflowing with food as usual.

"I've missed the Feast," Ron commented between bites of lamb chops, his eyes sliding closed in appreciation for the juicy meat. "Mhhh, this is heavenly. Not even Mum's cooking is this good. Just don't tell her I said that or she'll send me a Howler for sure."

Neville grinned at him, while Hermione merely shook her head in half amusement, half exasperation. "Oh Ronald," she sighed, picking up her own fork and spearing a ravioli on the end.

Ginny smiled at the interaction between her friends. It was nice to be back at Hogwarts where everything seemed normal, as if the past two years had never happened. _If only that were true_, she thought with a sigh, poking at her own food. Suddenly, the feeling of being watched made her glance up warily. She was startled to find a pair of cool grey eyes staring back at her from across the hall.

Draco silently cursed himself as he jerked his gaze back down to his plate. _Blast my curiosity! Why can't I get her out of my head? She's nothing special, just another red-haired, freckle-faced Weasley._

Therein was the lie, however. She_ was_ special. There was just something about her that drew him in like a moth to a flame. _One of us is going to get burned, and I don't intend to let it be me_. Suddenly, he realized how melodramatic he was being and winced. _Get a grip, Draco_, he commanded himself. _This is pure rubbish. She's the little She-Weasel, nothing more. So stop thinking about her! _

A tug on his robe sleeve brought his attention back to the annoying life form beside him. The girl smiled up at him, stubborn cheerfulness shinning in her big blue eyes. "The others told me that your name is Malfoy. I tried to introduce myself earlier, but it's hard to talk to someone who just glares at you," she stated matter-of-factly, blinking her eyes slowly.

Draco scowled at her and ripped his robe out of her grasp. "Why don't you just go and bother someone else? I have no time for little girls who like to annoy their older housemates." Under his breath, he muttered that the Sorting Hat was clearly going senile and had sorted her into the wrong House. _She's a dumb 'Puff, not a cunning Serpent_, he mused with a sharp glance at her.

The girl frowned, her brow furrowing. "But you look lonely. I didn't want you to feel sad," she replied. Her innocent happiness was beginning to drive him mad. _She's like a Bat Bogey Hex that just won't dry up!_

"Look, kid, I don't care what you think you know about me. You have no _idea_ who I am. I'm a vicious Death Eater who knows five hundred curses that would turn you inside out. Now scram!" snarled Draco angrily, trying to shove her away.

With a startled yelp, the girl clutched her hand to her chest and hastily scrambled out of her seat. As he gazed at her retreating form, Draco felt a small flicker of shame at hurting her; he had honestly only meant to get her away from him, not twist her wrist, but it worked either way. He was alone once more, empty seats surrounding him on every side. However, his already small appetite seemed to have deserted him completely after that display of aggression he did not know he still had in him.

Sighing to himself like an old man, Draco pushed off the table and stalked out of the room, headed for the privacy of his new common room. _This is going to be a long year..._

* * *

**While the Deputy Head(master/mistress) usually leads the first years out, Professor Sprout is not the new Deputy. Flitwick is, but he had to stay inside the Great Hall for the singing. Sprout is just fullfilling his role tonight. **


	9. Chapter 9

**Due to the upcoming holidays, this will be the last update until after Christmas. Sorry about the wait, but it can't be helped. Hope you like this chapter! And thanks to reviewers! :)**

* * *

"Returning seventh years follow me please!" Hermione called out nervously over the rumble of chatter. The feast had just ended and the students were preparing to retire to their common rooms. In order to accommodate everyone, the returning students were still moving into their new dormitories, and a new wing had been built for the students retaking their seventh year since their old rooms were being taken over by the new seventh year students. After this year was over, the space would be used to expand the current dorms and classrooms, as the onrush of new students was making the accommodations feel slightly cramped. It was a very confusing matter that Ginny did not care to ask too much about. It was enough for her to have a place to sleep, wherever it was.

Ron and Neville waved goodbye to Ginny as they slowly filed out of the Great Hall after Hermione and the Head Boy, Anthony Goldstein. The returning seventh year students had all received extra letters detailing the location of their new wing and the separate House common rooms, but the Head Boy and Girl were still expected to show the uncertain ones where to go.

As the last fluttering robe disappeared around the corner, Ginny sighed and began to trudge after her own group of seventh year Gryffindors. However, McGonagall's voice stopped her. "Ginny, could I speak to you for a moment?" Ginny turned around expectantly. "Yes, Pro-I mean Headmistress," she corrected herself sheepishly. McGonagall smiled down at the girl, her eyes twinkling in a way that reminded Ginny of Dumbledore.

"You may still call me Professor, dear. Now, I wanted to talk to you about the Gryffindor Quidditch team this year. As you know, with Mr. Potter gone, we are missing a Seeker." Seeing Ginny's wary nod, the older witch felt old, familiar warmth spread through her chest. _She reminds me of myself at that age_, McGonagall thought fondly.

And it was true, they shared many qualities. Both loved Quidditch and being a Chaser, even though they were called in as a Seeker many times. Before she could complete the walk down memory lane, the Headmistress pulled herself back together. "I know that you are reluctant to relinquish your position as Chaser, so I have a proposition for you." Ginny's shoulders straightened in interest.

"We are not only missing a Seeker, but also a Captain. Would you consider taking care of that problem for me?" A gasp escaped the Gryffindor's lips as she stared dumfounded at the woman. "You mean, you want me to be Captain?" she asked breathlessly, her eyes wide.

McGonagall nodded her head. "Besides your brother, you are the most experienced player we have on the team. And I do not think Mr. Weasley is quite ready to be a Captain," the Headmistress said primly, fighting a smile.

Ginny grinned and hastily said that she would be honored to be the Gryffindor's Captain. "Ah, that takes a load off my mind. We're sure to beat those Slytherins this year, even with Mr. Potter gone. Run along now. If you hurry up, you can catch the tail end of the group!"

After waving goodbye to McGonagall, Ginny ran off down the corridor towards the Gryffindor Tower. Just as she began to get breathless, she caught sight of black robes disappearing around the corner. She smiled triumphantly and increased her pace until she reached the straggling fourth years.

The journey to the common room had never felt so long for many of the students. Soft groans periodically rang out through the otherwise quiet night. It seemed that Peeves was busy elsewhere, or he would have taken great joy in disrupting the hushed anticipation of bedtime. Many of the new first years were looking around with wide eyes, mouths hanging open in awe of the beautiful paintings and tapestries.

The large group traveled up staircases with invisible missing steps, down rickety stairs that creaked under their weight, and past doors that disappeared before their very eyes. Suits of gleaming metal armor bowed regally to passing students, causing soft giggles of amusement to burst forth from the new first years. Stern-looking professors nodded down at them from their frames, their dated robes reflecting the style of their day.

As the students made their way down a corridor filled with chatting, easy-going portraits, they passed the statue of Lachlan the Lanky until they finally stopped in front of a portrait of a very fat lady in a pink silk dress. A fifth year perfect stepped forward and gave the password after a brief argument about whether or not the Fat Lady's singing had improved since last year. According to the frustrated perfect, it had not.

"I don't know why she bothers asking. We tell her the same thing every year," Romilda Vane whispered to her friend. They shared muffled giggles, glancing superstitiously at the back of the portrait.

Gasps of shock and amazement could be heard from the new students. Many of the older ones smiled nostalgically, remembering their own first night. Every year, it was the same reaction from the ones who had not seen the common room before.

_It _is_ quite beautiful, I suppose_, Ginny reasoned to herself with a critical look around the room.

Various armchairs and couches draped in the signature scarlet and gold surrounded a crackling fire, warm looking blankets thrown across the backs, ready for use. A notice board was pinned up on the opposite wall, showing when Quidditch tryouts where and other important information. A few desks were scattered throughout the large room for students to study or do homework on. Scarlet tapestries depicting famous witches and wizards and various animals adorned the walls between posters and painted banners of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. The former Gryffindors waved cheerfully at the new students from their spot on the stone wall. Two wooden doors on the opposite wall opened to spiral staircases leading up to separate boys' and girls' dormitories.

As the noise level rose, Ginny immediately decided to forgo chatting with her peers and instead walked over to the door leading to the girls' dorms and went up the spiral staircase to get ready for bed. Pausing at the foot of the stairs, she glanced back wistfully, feeling slightly nostalgic about past days when she would be down there having fun with her friends and fellow Gryffindors.

But tonight, she could not take the sympathy in their eyes or even the silent pats on the back. And if she heard one more story about another famous Feorge and Gred prank, she would scream. It was as if by not talking about him, she would not remember that he was gone—that he would still be there, laughing and joking around with everyone, if she only looked hard enough. It was a silly presumption but she clung to it nonetheless. In time she knew that she would have to let go of her irrational fear, but for now, she was simply too tired to debate the matter with herself.

Ginny carefully walked up the stairs and down a narrow hall before finally reaching the door marked "Seventh Years". Inside, five four-poster beds with bed covers and heavy, velvet curtains in the same scarlet and gold scheme from downstairs were pushed up against the walls neatly. Her small trunk was sitting at the foot of one of the beds on the right side of the room, labeling it as hers for the year. A small, wooden nightstand sat beside the bed.

Seeing the empty space available, she slowly began unpacking her things, stuffing clothes into the drawers. Digging around in her trunk, she finally found what she was searching for and gently pulled out a small picture frame. Ginny smiled, rubbing a finger along the edge. The entire Weasley family had their arms around each other, laughing at something Bill had said. It was an old picture; Ginny was only nine at the time. It was taken in front of the Burrow during one of their boisterous family reunions. Slowly, her heart overflowing with love for her family, she placed the picture on the nightstand and turned it so that she could gaze at it while lying on the bed.

_Home, sweet home_, she mused with a sigh, tugging her heavy black robe off to reveal her school uniform underneath. _Well, I did it. I'm back. I even walked right past where he...where it happened and I was perfectly fine. Maybe this won't be so hard after all._

But it was several hours before she finally fell into a deep, dreamless slumber.

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Draco will make a reappearence in the next chapter. Should reveal a little peak into his delightfully strange mind. ;)


	10. Chapter 10

**Hope ya'll had a very merry Christmas. I decided that I couldn't wait any longer to post this chapter, so here it is. Enjoy! :)**

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The night went even worse for Draco.

He shuffled up to the newly built dormitories before the onrush of Slytherins could bombard him with stares and half whispered questions. As he poked a cautious head in the room, mindful of Peeve's habit of laying traps for unsuspecting students, he spotted a small, unobtrusive bed pushed into a dark corner of the room. With a grateful sigh at his rare stroke of good luck, Draco picked up his trunk from beside the wall and slid it under the bed.

_I'll just unpack in the morning_, he reasoned wearily as he flopped onto the bed, pulling the curtains closed after a moment. It was quiet in the dormitory, too quiet for his liking. He was used to the comforting undercurrent of conversation echoing around the corner from the old Slytherin common room to fall asleep to. It drove away the unwanted thoughts and memories in his head. But tonight, there was nothing to hold them at bay. The deafening silence pressed down on him, eliminating any chance of restful sleep.

Flashbacks haunted his mind, tearing down any semblance of normalcy he had so desperately clutched at. He remembered the feel of his wand in his hand, poised to utter the two words that would grant his family life only to take it away from the man before him.

"_Come over to the right side, Draco...you are not a killer..."_

How he wished he had said yes! But he had been so scared, so filled with fear that he could do nothing to stop the other Death Eaters when they arrived. He remembered his hand trembling so much that he could barely hold it up. The look on the old man's face was forever burned into his mind, the image glaring out at him from behind his eyelids. He had rambled on about how he was the one with the power and that Dumbledore was at his mercy, but in his mind he could not help but think that everything was falling apart around him.

It had been a choice between his family and Dumbledore. One choice that could give him everything he ever wanted, or take it away. Even though he had quickly become disillusioned with his life as a Death Eater, he knew that if he ever tried to leave, the Dark Lord would murder his parents. Lucius might not have been the most paternal father, but Draco still loved him, still looked up to him. As for his mother, she was innocent, guilty by nothing more than association. She had never even received the Dark Mark. The only reason she was involved in Lord Voldemort's plans was because of her husband and son. Draco had always had the feeling that if she could escape from the Dark Lord's rule and her family be assured of safety, then she would seize the opportunity without hesitation.

"I'm sorry, Mother. I never meant for it to go this far," he would whisper to her in the dark of the night while Lucius and the other Death Eaters were conferring in the Drawing Room. Narcissa would just nod in silence, her face tightening at the sound of chairs scraping against the floor as the meeting drew to a close.

Dumbledore's words came back to him again, taunting him over and over. The man had offered him a chance at redemption, and Draco had almost taken it when the idiot Amycus barged in. But still, the Headmaster's words had made the young man pause in thought, his wand hesitantly dropping an inch or so.

"_No, Draco. It is my mercy, and not yours, that matters now." _

Just what had he meant by that? The answer resided at the edge of Draco's mind, hovering just out of reach. It was torture for the young Slytherin. In a world full of chaos and destruction, he had desperately sought after truth and certainty during his time as a Death Eater. He had to know what Dumbledore meant, or else he would go mad. _And now I won't ever get the chance to ask him_, he thought in bitter regret.

"Stop it," Draco gasped in his sleep, tossing and turning on the bed. "Please, just make it stop!"

A flash of bright light jerked him away from the frail Headmaster and towards another memory—that of his first interrogation as a fully fledged Death Eater. Lord Voldemort was present at this one to insure that Draco actually carried out his orders. "You have to really mean it, Draco," Aunt Bellatrix hissed softly in his ear, her stiff black hair poking at his cheek.

Draco shakily held his wand up and pointed at the man's forehead again.

"Please, please don't hurt me! I didn't do anything! M-My family needs me. I have two kids at home," the man rambled tearfully, clutching at Draco's robes. With a disgusted growl, he kicked the man away from him and licked his lips nervously. A glance across the room revealed Lord Voldemort's hooded figure staring back at him.

"Do it," the Dark Lord commanded in a raspy purr. His words sent a shaft of terror and horror zinging up Draco's spine.

_I can't! I can't do this! Picking on students is one thing, but torturing a defenseless man is another_, he thought to himself, his face pale and drawn from the strain. But he had to. If he refused, his own family would be tortured instead, and the man would still die, most likely in an even more painful way. _I'm sorry_, he whispered inaudibly to the man, knowing that he would never hear it. _I have no choice._

And so, with a trembling hand and a faint gasp, Draco ground out the hauntingly familiar word through gritted teeth.

"_Crucio_."

The man emitted a sickening scream that would echo through Draco's mind for the rest of his life. Convulsing on the ground in agony, the man continued his screeching until Bellatrix finally finished cackling long enough to kill him. The flash of green blinded Draco's eyes, and he held up a hand to shield his face, stepping back in fear.

Lord Voldemort suddenly appeared at his side and laid a bony, freezing hand on his shoulder. "Well done, Draco. You are becoming most adept at the Unforgivable curses. Perhaps you would like to try the Killing Curse next?"

Draco sat up in bed with a yelp, his heart beating rapidly. Pressing a trembling hand to his chest, he dragged in a ragged gulp of air. A peek around the bed curtain showed him four beds full of snoring seventh year Slytherins.

_I must have fallen asleep_, he thought uneasily as he tugged a hand through his tousled hair. _They came in while I was resting, and I just didn't hear them._ The notion did nothing to put him at ease. In fact, it made his stomach clench even more. _If they can bust in here, shouting and whooping like they usually do, then what could they do to me if they made a conscious effort to be quiet? _

At one point, these young men had been his obedient followers, carrying out his every command. However, after his family deflected from the Dark Lord's side at the end of the War, a grudge against him grew inside of many Slytherins. Their families were the ones who were sent to Azkaban, many to receive a Dementor's Kiss.

On the other hand, Draco's father was facing a lifetime sentence at worst, and severe fines and five years of probation for the entire family at best. But the odds were slowly tipping in the Malfoys' favor, and Lucius was beginning to see hope for his family. Being able to afford the best lawyer in the wizarding world helped matters somewhat.

A faint rumble from his stomach brought his thoughts back to his hunger. As soon as he became aware of it, the pain hit him full force, making him clutch his unforgiving stomach. _That's what I get for skipping lunch and only eating a few bites for supper_, he mused with a rueful sigh.

Reluctantly easing out of bed, Draco slipped on a nearby robe and tip-toed out of the room. He glanced warily at the slumbering forms of his House members, suspicion written clear on his pale face. _I'll have to watch my back this year_, he thought. _If I'm not careful, I might wake up to a rather painful curse in the face. _

_Or_, he added bitterly, _not wake up at all._


	11. Chapter 11

**Thanks to the following for your reviews! :) Hope ya'll enjoy this chapter**

**marinka**

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**SamanthaSparklesInTheSun**

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"Today we will be brewing the Amortentia potion. Split up into groups of two and get started. The instructions are on page 35. You have until the end of class, but it takes a while to brew, so don't dawdle now!" Professor Slughorn said, his mustache twitching, as he eased down into the large, overstuffed chair behind the desk.

It was only the first day back, and yet the teachers were already burying the students in work to prepare them for their N.E.W.T.s at the end of the year. To top it off, many of them were already behind in their studies because of the "change in management" last year, as Neville had taken to calling it. Now they had to learn last year's lessons along with the new information from this year.

Ginny sighed to herself as she glanced around dubiously. She did not particularly care to partner up with anyone but she had no choice._ Hmm, let's see. Who will annoy me the least?_ she wondered. Today, the Gryffindors had a double period with Slytherin. Most everyone had already chosen the people they wanted to work with. Before she knew it, only she and a small handful of students remained without a partner.

"Hey, are you working with anyone?" a light voice spoke up from behind her. She turned around in her chair and stared up into the smiling face of Pami Artisan, a Gryffindor she had never really spoken to much other than for a brief good morning or hello in the common room.

"No, unless you want to partner up with me," Ginny replied hopefully, casting a glance around at the only students left, a trio of scowling Slytherins. Pami gave a twinkling laugh and sat down. "So do you have any idea what to do?" she asked, tilting her head to the side. "I'm afraid that I'm not the best when it comes to Potions. All I'm good for is Music and Muggle Studies really."

Ginny smiled. "Don't worry, I may not be another Slughorn, but I'm adequate I suppose. Here, I'll go get the ingredients." As she stood up and began walking over to the Potions cabinet, she overheard snippets of the other students' conversations. Normally, she would have ignored the gossip and moved on but something caught her ear. Pretending to search for a bottle of bat blood, she strained her ears in the direction of two whispering Slytherin girls.

"Are you sure it was him you saw?" a dark-skinned girl with brown corkscrew hair demanded with wide eyes. The other girl nodded, her blond hair gently swishing. "I'm positive! I mean, who can mistake him with that silver hair and tall, lean body? Plus, he was moving around like he was in control of the entire castle. Duh, of course it was Draco. He's like, a total hottie! Anyway, there I was, sitting on the bench with Theodore when this long shadow moved at the end of the corridor. We immediately jumped up and started to run back to the common room, 'cause we didn't want to get caught by stupid Filch and his diseased cat again. You know he gave me twenty nights of detention for being out five minutes after ten last time! I had to—"

The dark-haired girl let out a frustrated growl. "Focus, Rachel. What about the shadow? What else did you see?" Rachel leaned forward eagerly, holding her hand up to her mouth to muffle the sound. "Well, I saw his face. It was all screwed up, like this." She scowled fiercely, her lips pinched and her nose scrunched up.

"And then, right before we turned the corner, he vanished!" The other girl frowned. "What do you mean vanished? Are you sure you didn't just imagine all this?" Rachel rolled her navy blue eyes in contempt. "Bridget, I know what I saw. Unlike you, I can actually see what's in front of me."

Bridget jerked her head back and glared at her friend. "What's that supposed to mean? I can see just fine! For instance, right now I'm looking at a really fat, conceited cow!"

Ginny grabbed a random ingredient, having heard enough. As she carefully maneuvered her way around the tables full of simmering cauldrons and past the pair of bickering Slytherin girls, she bit her lip in thought. _Now what would Malfoy be doing out late last night, _she wondered. Although she was not as paranoid as Harry or Ron, she still had enough sense to know suspicious behavior when she saw it. She had grown up with the ultimate pranking duo, Fred and George, after all! If she knew anything, it was mischief.

Pami looked up when Ginny sat down beside her. "What took you so long? I had the time to look up the potion in the book and prepare the cauldron, which is saying a lot knowing me," she joked with an easy grin. Ginny smiled absently in return and began laying out the items they would need. "Alright, according to the book, it's supposed to have a mother-of-pearl sheen and steam rising up when it's done."

Pami examined the book closely and waggled her eyebrows at Ginny. "The book also says that whatever we smell, will be what attracts us the most. Hehe, guess that means we're getting free romance advice from a potion," she said with a giggle. Ginny rolled her eyes and carefully began stirring the simmering philtre. "Yeah, are we pathetic or what?" They shared a chuckle before turning their attention back to their cauldron. Ever so often, they would add another ingredient or a stir. Finally, the bubbling potion began to shimmer with soft iridescent colors.

Pami let out a gasp of awe, her mouth hanging open wide. "We did it! I can't believe it! For the first time, I actually got something right in here," she exclaimed, turning to hug Ginny in delight. The red-haired girl hugged her back with a laugh, but gently pushed her away after a few seconds. "Look, here comes Professor Slughorn!"

The two girls waited impatiently for the man to make his way to their table. When he saw the sparkling philtre, a huge smile grew on his rounded face. "Oho! Look here students, Ms. Weasley and Ms. Artisan have done a truly magnificent job! Fifteen points each to Gryffindor for your most excellent work," he said, beaming at them. Pami looked as if she were about to faint, and Ginny had to give her a poke to bring her out of her daze. "What? Oh, oh yeah! Thank you Professor!"

The Slytherins shot them dirty looks, but the other Gryffindors grinned and gave them thumb-ups.

One handsome boy tapped Pami on the shoulder with a smile. "Nice! Thirty points? I couldn't do that in a week," he praised. Pami blushed bright pink and stuttered a shy reply. Ginny shook her head at the girl and turned back to the cauldron.

Leaning forward, she sniffed delicately, hoping to catch a whiff of something in the spiraling steam. As she breathed in deeply, an odd combination of vanilla, broomstick handles, and something distinctly mint-y registered in her mind. "Mmmhhh," she sighed softly, her eyes sliding closed. The smell reminded her of someone, but she could not remember who.

Before she could figure it out, the bell gonged and everyone began to gather up their things. _Whatever it was, it smelled positively delicious, _she thought as she slung her book bag on her shoulder.

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**Just to clarify, Bridget and Rachel are actual Slytherin girls. They appeared as members of the duelling club in the Chamber of Secrets video game.**

**Also, a philtre is a potion designed to enchant or charm the drinker.**

**What did ya'll think of what Ginny smelled from her potion? ;) **


	12. Chapter 12

The days flew by for Ginny. Homework piled up inside her book bag, earning disapproving looks from Hermione. Their classwork became even harder but Ginny enjoyed it. Except for one class, that is.

"Alright class, today we will be practicing nonverbal spells. You are not allowed to speak during this time unless you have successfully completed the spell. Now, who wants to go first?" Professor Dingelberry asked with a large smile on her face. She glanced around hopefully but no one stepped forward. Slightly flustered, she finally began pointing to random students.

"You, yes you; no the one behind you; hmm you'll do," she murmured to herself as she positioned the unlucky Gryffindors in front of a table. There was a single empty teacup in front of each student. "Okay, what I want you to do is try to transfigure your cup into a small bird _without speaking_," she instructed, placing particular emphasis on "without speaking."

They were supposed to have learned this in their sixth year, but practicing advanced magic had been forbidden because Voldemort had feared that they would use it against his Death Eaters. He was right to take such precautions because Ginny, and many others, would have gladly put their studies to use in the fight against him.

The woman motioned for them to begin. Faces turning slightly purple, they concentrated hard on the spell, their wands pointed towards the cup. A few accidentally let slip the words from their mouths, causing Dingelberry to sternly correct them.

After quite some time, and still no one having achieved what she desired, the professor waved the first group away. "Well, anyone else want to have a go at it?" Ginny groaned as, once again, no one stepped forward. Dingelberry sighed and pulled a few Gryffindors out from the crowd. When she reached Ginny, the woman smiled and nodded. "Yes, I think you might try it now," she stated pleasantly.

Ginny grumbled under her breath but moved towards the table. Once the professor had a full table again, she instructed the new students to try the spell. Ginny could see her fellow housemates struggling to force the magic out and she swallowed hard. _Well, here goes nothing_, she thought.

Turning her full attention towards the innocent-looking cup, she aimed her wand and tried to visualize the spell in her mind.

_Avifors_.

The cup remained a cup. The Gryffindor frowned and tried again. This time, she imagined it transforming into a small blue bird.

_Avifors!_

Again and again she directed the spell towards the white cup but nothing seemed to happen. Her frustration now fully peaked and her face red from exertion, she mentally shouted the words and put all her might behind the spell. The teacup exploded on the table, sending shards of porcelain shooting everywhere.

Professor Dingelberry hastily drew out her wand. "_Aresto Momentum!_" The small, broken pieces stopped in midair, inches away from another student's face. He jumped back with a curse, shooting daggers at Ginny. The professor waved her wand again. "_Reparo!_" The small shards flew back together, forming a seamless cup once more.

"I think that's a good place to end class today. Your homework is to practice some nonverbal spells!" Dingelberry called over the sound of the ringing bell.

As Ginny heaved her bag onto her shoulder, she sent a dirty look towards the white teacup. _I'll be seeing _you _later_, she thought evilly.

On her way out the door, Dingelberry stopped her to comment on her "accident."

"It's a nice start. It shows that you at least have the potential to harness your energy and direct it towards an object. Just work on controlling it some more, hmm? That's all. Hurry along now." Ginny smiled at her and hurried on, but inside she was sighing sadly.

_You know this is advanced magic, so why are you so upset?_ she asked herself. _Sure, Hermione figured it out after only a few tries during her own sixth year, but Hermione's the best at everything! Brightest Witch of her Time, she is. Nothing anyone else accomplishes can hope to compare to her record, save for Harry of course. She's always the first to do everything._

_Stop it already_, she scolded herself angrily. _A pity party won't help you learn nonverbal spells any faster, so shut up and start studying. Besides, I think I'm late for Charms class. _

Later that night, Ginny sat on the couch in front of the crackling fire in the common room. In her lap was her copy of _A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration_. She had been practicing nonverbal spells the entire afternoon but she was not improving in the slightest.

_As much as I hate to admit it, I could really use Hermione's help right about now_, she thought with a sigh. _If only she wasn't holed up in the Head Boy and Girl's room. She mastered this stuff two years ago, so surely she would know what I'm doing wrong._ _Hmm, I wonder if I've gotten any better at Disillusionment charms. _

With a mischievous grin, she slammed the book closed and placed it on the cushion beside her. Springing up, she pulled out her wand and twirled it around herself. The feeling of cold egg yolks flowed down over her skin. Shuddering in disgust, she held out her hands in front of her and examined them critically. Only the faintest outline could be seen when she wiggled her fingers. Pleased with herself, Ginny tucked her wand into her robe and dashed out of the common room.

It was silent in the deserted corridor and cold—bitterly cold. _I should have grabbed a thicker robe_, she thought with a shiver. Rubbing her transparent arms, the Gryffindor glanced down the hall. Nothing but thick, solid blackness met her curious gaze.

To be honest, all the stillness was making her uneasy. Growing up with six older brothers had made her virtually immune to ear-shattering noise but it had also made her more vulnerable to quietness. Add in the memory if being all alone in a dank, moldy chamber, and Ginny had the perfect recipe for a phobia of the dark. That was why she thrived on being in the thick of things. There was no room for loneliness there.

However, Ginny had no one with her now.

"I don't need anyone," she whispered to herself. "All I have to do is stroll on over to the Head Boy and Girl's dorm. I'm sure Hermonie will walk back with me. Nothing to fear. Nothing at all." Her confidence bolstered by that little pep talk, Ginny pointed her wand at the darkness and gave it a small flick.

"_Lumos._"

The tip glowed silver-white, casting long shadows ahead of her. It was strange seeing the light abruptly appear out of supposedly no where. Swallowing hard, the Gryffindor began to shuffle forward.

Before long, she was cursing transfiguration, Hermione, little white teacups, and everything else under the sun. "Stupid, stupid, stupid," she muttered under her breath. Pausing to lean against a portrait of a snoring old man sitting at a table, Ginny imagined the teacup exploding again and again. If she focused all her anger and frustration on it, there would be no time to feel the tiniest bit scared. At least that is what she told herself.

_It's only Hogwarts after all_, she thought with a strained laugh that echoed down the hall. _What could happen here? Certainly nothing that involves Petrifying basilisks, rampaging Death Eaters, creepy Dementors, howling werewolves, and mischievous poltergeists_, she answered herself wryly. Ginny had seen all of those, and more, right here within the castle walls. Surprisingly, that fact did not put her at ease.


	13. Chapter 13

After his first midnight stroll, Draco had taken to wandering the corridors aimlessly at night. Of course, he suffered for it in the morning but he did not care anymore. He could not sleep anyway, so why bother trying? All he would see was another innocent life ending before his eyes. One man could only take so much before he cracked and Draco was determined to prolong it for as long as possible.

And so he roamed.

Secrets had always fascinated him, any kind of secret. He loved finding them out and then holding them over the owner's head. It gave him a sense of power that he could not find anywhere else. However, once he began to acquire some of his own, the feeling of pleasure from discovering them disappeared. Knowledge became a matter of survival. The more one knew when working under the Dark Lord, the longer one usually lived. But sometimes one could know too much, and then he became a liability. It was all about balance. Know enough to live, but not enough to be found out. It was a very thin line he had walked, but walk it he had.

That was one of the reasons Aunt Bellatrix had taught Draco Occlumency. He knew many secrets that Lord Voldemort would have killed him for if they were discovered. It turned out that Draco was something of a prodigy at it, much to Bellatrix's delight. He could turn off his emotions at will, enabling him to lock his mind from the inside out. No one, not even the Dark Lord, could delve into his head and drew out all of his secrets. Some Draco did not care if anyone found out, such as his resentment at his father for incurring the wrath of Lord Voldemort.

However there were others that could have painted a large red target on his back if anyone ever found out that he knew. On the outside he might appear to be the Dark Lord's personal servant, the perfect Death Eater ready to do whatever his master commands. But on the inside, he resented being used in such a way. He was a Malfoy, not a house elf to be kicked around. After a time, such thoughts became too dangerous to think even in the relative privacy of his mind.

So he shut them down.

It worked remarkably well for the brief time he needed it to. In that regard, he supposed he was similar to the Dark Lord. Both of them were capable of atrocities like no other once they were comfortable with not feeling anything inside. But at least Draco knew that there was such a thing as love, even if he had never experienced it himself from anyone other than his mother. And even then, a mother's affection only went so far. Perhaps that was what went wrong with Lord Voldemort—he never had a mother to love him. Oh yes, Draco knew all about young Tom Riddle, an example of the kind of secret that could have gotten him killed if his Lordship, as that sniveling idiot Wormtail had always called him, found out.

Absently rubbing his left arm, Draco peered down the hall stretching before him. All was silent. He held up his wand and waved it around his head carelessly before striding forward. Coldness rippled down over his skin, but he did not take notice of it for he was more than used to the feeling. The faint blue light produced by the charm slowly faded until all was dark once more. By now he had memorized the entire layout of this level of the castle and did not even have to cast the Lumos spell to see by. Hogwarts held no more secrets, at least for him.

He had no destination in mind, only the desire to see just how far he could roam before Filch caught him. It seemed a favorite pastime of his to court trouble. Maybe it was the adrenaline rush he felt when he walked past the caregiver's office without being noticed. Although now that he thinks of it, such a small victory was rather pathetic compared to what he had been through in his young life. Nothing he did now could ever surpass, or even hope to measure up to, his life as a Death Eater.

In later years he would look back on that moment and laugh at his utter naivety


	14. Chapter 14

Ginny should have realized that something was wrong when she heard the pad of feet on the stone floor. Extinguishing her wand light and throwing herself into the shadows, she fervently hoped that it was not Filch and his mangy cat patrolling the corridors for late-night mischief-makers.

_Like me_, she mused with a quick grin.

It did not occur to her until the footsteps were almost upon her that it was not the slow, shuffling rhythm of the aging caregiver, but the quick, confident one of a student. Another clue was how she saw no sign of Filch's signature swinging lantern.

Breath catching, she pressed against the wall with her wand tucked securely in her robe pocket. As she peered into the darkness, eyes straining for any sight of an approaching figure, she caught the faintest whiff of…fresh mint?

_I recognize that smell! But from where? _Ginny wondered, her eyes widening.

She must have made some sort of noise, for the footsteps abruptly stopped, the silence looming around her ominously. The Gryffindor held her breath and squeezed her eyes shut, childishly thinking that if she could not see the figure, then the figure could not see her.

Suddenly, she felt something dart forward and probe the air in front of her face. A startled gasp escaped her lips as feather-light fingers grazed her cheek. The stranger slammed into her, their arm pressing into her throat so that her airways were constricted enough to prevent any screams. She felt a wand tip stab at her forehead painfully, and blue light flowed down her body. Where it passed over her body, fair skin and rumpled clothes slowly reappeared.

"_Lumos_," a voice hissed. The stranger took in the sight of the trademark Weasley red hair and cursed his bad luck. It seemed to be his lot in life to be found by his enemies at the most inopportune times.

"For the love of Salazar, Weasley. Just what do you think you're doing?" the invisible person asked wearily, shifting their arm. Ginny immediately realized who it was by the exasperation in his voice. Only one person could sound surprised, resigned, and angry at the same time while still managing to come off as all-knowing.

"Malfoy?" she exclaimed incredulously. "What are you doing here?"

Draco loosened his hold but did not release her completely. "I asked you first," he shot back with a smirk in his voice. Scowling at where she guessed his face to be, Ginny told him that it was rather disconcerting to talk to someone she could not see. Not realizing that he was still invisible, the Slytherin glanced down in surprise and twirled his wand around his head with a huff.

"Happy now?" he asked sourly. Ginny nodded mutely as his pale, drawn features loomed out on the blackness in front of her. Before, she had not realized how close they were, but now it was glaringly obvious. Only a few inches separated their faces. The pale white light at the end of his wand highlighted the flecks of silver in his eyes.

_Too close! _her mind screamed at her in alarm. _Much too close! _

Draco seemed to come to the same conclusion, for he let go of her and stepped back quickly with a pink tinge in his cheeks. He struggled with himself before finally letting out a frustrated growl. "What do you think you're doing, Weaselette? It's almost midnight!" Ginny shrugged carelessly, not at all fazed by his words.

"I needed to talk to Hermione," she replied plainly, smiling at his bewildered look. "And so you just up and decide to march on over there? I knew your brother was an idiot, but I thought you had a little bit of sense," the Slytherin stated while rolling his eyes.

Ginny laughed, surprising him once more. "What can I say? I'm a daredevil. Now that I've answered your question, it's time for you to answer mine. What were _you_ doing wandering around?" Draco cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"That's none of your frickin' business! Now get back to bed before I report you to Filch," he threatened with a growl.

The Gryffindor raised an eyebrow at him in an uncanny imitation of himself. "Now get back to bed before I report you to Filch," she mocked in a high-pitched voice. "Really? That's the best you've got? Come on, Malfoy. I know you can do better than that. Besides, you wouldn't talk to Filch even if McGonagall herself paid you. You'd only get yourself in trouble, and that's the last thing you want. You obviously roam these corridors often, or else you would have needed a light. Plus, you used a Disillusionment charm, so that means you didn't want anyone to see you. What's your secret, Malfoy? What are you up to?"

Shocked at her matter-of-fact tone, Draco simply stared at her in silence. He never knew he was so easy to read. Finally, the young man took a deep breath and opened his mouth to tell her to shut her trap and go back to her common room before he hexed her. The chance never came, however.

"Well what do we have here? Two students out of bed. Mmmhh, I think this deserves a detention," a voice croaked from the shadows.

Ginny groaned to herself as she turned around and spotted the hunch-backed figure of Filch, his lantern held high above his head and his cat sitting primly his feet. When Draco and Ginny glared at her, Mrs. Norris hissed savagely at them with her back arched. The torchlight gleamed on her claws.

Swallowing a curse, Draco glared at the girl beside him. "This is all _your_ fault," he muttered to her as he sullenly began to follow the caregiver down the hall towards his office. Ginny harrumphed, not taking her eyes off Mrs. Norris, who was constantly weaving between her legs to trip her up. Every now and then the cat would rake her claws against Ginny's ankle.

"Bloody cat," the Gryffindor moaned as she felt a new scratch mar her otherwise unblemished skin. Normally she loved cats, but she drew the line at ones that tried to maim her.

Snickers erupted from her companion, who did nothing to try to muffle them.

"That's right, laugh it up. Just you wait, Malfoy. I'm going to make your life miserable just as soon as Filch leaves. You won't be able to move, let alone laugh when I'm done with you. Agh! Stupid cat," Ginny yelled before stomping down on Mrs. Norris's tail. With an ear-shattering screech, the cat barreled into Filch.

"Mrs. Norris! Oh, my poor baby! You insolent delinquent, you. I'll roast you alive for this," he hollered, stroking his cat's trembling body. "I have my whip all oiled and ready for such a time as this. You've had it coming, you have."

Just as Ginny and Draco were beginning to reach for their wands to hex some sense into the doddering old caregiver, the Headmistress appeared around the corner in her nightgown, a robe hastily thrown over the top of it. Her glasses were slightly askew on her face and her graying hair was sticking out of her nightcap.

"I believe we have discussed this before, Mr. Filch. Thank you for your suggestions, but I will be handling their punishment. Come along, Mr. Malfoy, Ms. Weasley. And _no_, Mr. Filch. I do not think that stepping on your cat's tail justifies hanging students up by their thumbs," McGonagall said in a harassed tone. Apparently, she had been on her way to the kitchen for a bite to eat when she heard the commotion around the corner and came to investigate.

Draco and Ginny shared resigned glances before following the Headmistress down the corridor.

"I am very disappointed with the both of you. We are only in the first week and a half of school, and yet you have managed to get into trouble already. Normally I would have let you off the hook by only taking ten house points each, but due to the unusual circumstances," McGonagall paused with a pointed look at Draco, "I must take appropriate action."

Ginny frowned in confusion. "What do you mean by unusual circumstances?" Draco squeezed his eyes shut so that he would not see the realization light up her eyes.

"She means me, Weasley. I'm the unusual circumstances. I'm still on probation, or haven't you heard? Apparently I'm viewed as a '_threat to society_,'" he explained sarcastically.

Ginny nodded slowly, her heart thawing just the slightest towards the young man. _It must be hard to have the entire world against you_, she thought.

However, he opened his eyes and she saw the hardness in them. All sympathetic thoughts fled from her mind as he rounded on her. "Save your pity," he spat. "Potter needs it more than I do." Ginny drew herself up indignantly. "And just what do you mean by that, Ferret?" she demanded, her hands on her hips.

He looked down at her with an unreadable expression. "I hear he lost something not too long ago, something good. Trust me, he deserves your pity much more than I do. Besides, your sappiness disgusts me. Not to mention your red hair. Honestly Weasley. Did you accidentally get in the way of a tomato dye spell or is that glaringly bright crimson your natural color?"

Blinking in confusion at his abrupt subject change, Ginny could only stare up at him speechlessly.

McGonagall rubbed a hand down her face and took a deep breath. "Your detentions will be a week of working for Professor Sprout. Whatever she deems fit for you to do, you will do it without complaint. _Is that understood?_" she asked sharply, her green eyes flashing. Both students reluctantly nodded, shooting glares at each other out of the corner of their eyes.

The Headmistress sighed in relief and shooed them back to bed. "I better not catch either of you out of bed after hours again. Now go!"

Without further urging, they turned around and headed back to their separate common rooms.

Watching them go, McGonagall could not help but smile. _They might not know it now, but they're going to have to learn to get along sooner or later. Much more likely sooner_, she thought with a soft chuckle before strolling down the corridor towards her office. _Too much work to do, and too little time to do it. A Headmistress's job is never done. How did Albus ever manage being Headmaster all those years?_ she wondered, shaking her head wearily.


	15. Chapter 15

It had started out as a nice enough day, although that soon changed for Draco. It was Saturday, and the older students were at Hogsmead with their friends. Snow covered the small town in a white blanket, and the biting wind would have deterred others of a lesser willpower. However, it was the first Hogsmead visit of the year and no one would be discouraged by the fierce weather.

Draco had considered not even going. Instead, he told himself, he would simply work on his Transfiguration essay. Merlin knows he needed to. However, the laughter that drifted through the door from the common room was too tempting an offer to ignore.

_You know something is up when Slytherins are laughing for reasons other than someone's misfortune_, he thought wryly. It was an old joke among the Serpent students, one the other Houses would never learn to appreciate. _Old stiff necks. Even the bad guys get to have a little fun once in a while, don't we?_ He let loose a quiet chuckle that seemed louder than normal in the empty room—or at least it would have been empty if he had the courage to walk out and join his house mates on their little trip. He did not, though, and that was that.

A few more minutes passed, and the sound of thunderous footsteps and carefree chatter slowly faded, leaving him alone in the silence. He tried to concentrate on his homework, but every time he lowered the quill to the parchment, his mind went frustratingly blank. Finally, he could take it no more. He jumped up, grabbed his winter cloak, and stalked out of the room.

"Probably bloody freezing out there, too," he muttered glumly as he stomped through the common room and out the portrait door. After one last, longing glance at the delightfully empty room, he shut the portrait behind him.

Ginny watched Hermione and Ron leave together, their hands entwined. Both their faces were bright pink, strange when one considered that they have already kissed each other multiple times. _Why are they so embarrassed about just holding hands?_ she asked herself with a bewildered shake of her head. _They're certainly different from most teenagers. Of course, I always knew Ron was a wee bit unusual in the head, but Hermione seemed normal—well, apart from her academic obsessions, that is._

The last student ran down the stairs and out the portrait door, leaving Ginny all alone once more. _I knew I should have gone with those other girls. Sure, I might have murdered a few of them once their giggling nonsense got on my last nerve, but at least I would have had some fun at the beginning. But I guess a lifetime sentence in Azkaban wouldn't really be worth it...well, maybe a little bit._ A fleeting grin crossed her face before she sighed and dropped onto the nearby couch with a dramatic huff.

_Oh well, here's to another lonely afternoon._

She had no one to blame her boredom on besides herself. Ron and Hermione had asked her if she wanted to join them, but she had declined, not wanting to ruin their day together. After seeing the slightly relieved looks on their faces, she had to fight back a knowing smirk. They deserved their alone time together considering everything they had been through. Still, it was fun to tease her brother; Ginny could be quite merciless when it came to dunderheads like him.

Besides, it was nauseating to see them fawn over each other the way they did. Not even her and Harry had shown _that _much affection in public. Of course, that could be attributed to the fact that they had spent most of their time together snogging in deserted corridors and unused classrooms.

After the disgustingly lovey-dovey couple had left, Neville had came over and offered to go with her. However, Ginny had suggested that he ask Hannah Abbot instead. Ginny knew the girl had a secret crush on him and that a date in Hogsmeade would make her practically burst with happiness. Of course, Neville had no idea why she wanted him to take Hannah, but he finally relented and left for the Great Hall where he knew the Hufflepuff girl would be

Even Luna was going with someone. Ginny had heard Dean Thomas speaking to the misty-eyed Ravenclaw outside of the portrait earlier that day. Apparently, the two had bonded during their shared time at Malfoy Manor and later Shell Cottage. They were now good friends and had gone to Hogsmead to spend the day together. Although Ginny was overjoyed that Luna had made another friend, the loss of the cheerful girl made Ginny feel even lonelier.

In previous years, she had either hung out with her boyfriend of the year or Luna. But now that she had no boyfriend, (Harry did not really count), and the blond-haired Ravenclaw was gone, Ginny had no one to talk to. It was a rather unsettling feeling. She had grown up surrounded by family and friends, and for her to suddenly be alone was an unwelcome shock. But she could handle it. She always did.

"Well, looks like it's just you and me, buddy," Ginny commented to the curled up cat on the couch beside her. Crookshanks lazily blinked up at her, purring loudly. The Gryffindor smiled at him and reached down to scratch behind his ears. "That's a good kitty, yeah," she crooned.

She had always had a special touch with animals, especially cats, but Crookshanks was by far her favorite. He was not the easiest pet to take care of, but Ginny thought that Hermione had made an excellent choice when she chose him so many years ago in the Magical Meringue.

_At least I have one friend who hasn't left me_, she thought with a smile at the rumbling cat.

Draco knew he had made a mistake as soon as he stepped into the Three Broomsticks. Of all the places, his feet had to take him here? Did he have some sort of subconscious death wish?

Everyone's eyes turned towards him and the conversation died down until it was as silent as a tomb. He spotted Ron and Hermione sitting at the counter, each nursing a glass of butterbeer. _Oh, great_, he thought with a sigh. _Just what I needed to complete my day. Why is it that I'm always put in these kinds of situations? Lady Luck just doesn't like me very much, does she? _

"Look who's here—You-Know-Who's pride and joy," Ron remarked loud enough for the entire pub to hear. Jumping down from his seat, he strolled over to the Slytherin and leaned casually against the bar.

The other patrons watched with growing interest as Draco clenched his fists. "You mind repeating that, Weasel?" he asked slowly, twin spots of pink staining his otherwise deathly pale cheeks. His grey eyes flashed in fury at the jibe and he had to force his words out through gritted teeth.

Hermione came over and laid a restraining hand on Ron's arm. "Ron, stop it. Don't start a fight with him. You know it's what he wants," she whispered.

Ron shook off her arm with a sneer, completely ignoring her advice as the tips of his ears turned bright red. "You heard me, Ferret Boy. Now what are you going to do about it? Go cry to Daddy? Oh wait, that's right. He's on house arrest, so I have nothing to worry about him coming here to _beat me with his_ _cane_."

Muffled snickers echoed through the room as the other students showed their appreciation for the taunt. Draco snarled and lunged for him, forsaking his wand in favor of directly punching the Gryffindor. Ron stumbled back into Hermione, clutching at his aching jaw. "You asked for it, you filthy little murderer!" he shouted angrily, leaping forwards. Hermione grabbed his arm and yanked him back forcibly.

"Ronald Weasley! Stop that right now! He's not worth a detention. Just ignore the stupid prat," she said with a cool glance at Draco, who was smirking at the pair. "Yeah, Weaselbee. Listen to your girlfriend. After all, she is the one with the brains in this relationship. And everything else really," added the Slytherin, almost as an afterthought.

Ron howled furiously, rushing forward once more. He slammed into Draco with enough force to send them both crashing to the ground. They wrestled each other, their faces strained and tiny drops of blood dripping from various cuts. Hermione desperately tried to drag Ron away but he pushed her back, concentrating on doing as much damage to Draco as possible.

Without warning, the door slammed open, and they both paused momentarily to blink up at the sudden flood of light. Ginny gasped at the sight of her brother on the floor, his knee digging deep into Draco's throat. "What in Godric's name is going on here?" she demanded, drawing out her wand warily. Draco took the opportunity to slam his head into Ron's nose. The Gryffindor fell back with a cry of pain, his sight blurring with tears and blood.

Ginny rushed forward and dragged Draco away from the prone form of her brother, her wand aimed at his chest in warning. "Stop it, both of you! You're acting like children. The next person to move gets a hex in the face," she stated to the entire room, gazing around with narrowed eyes. Those nearest to her hastily backed up a few steps, well aware of her prowess in hexes.

"Now," she quietly continued, "what's going on?"

Draco casually wiped away a thin trail of blood from his busted lip, studying it with an almost scientific curiosity. "I have no idea, little Miss She-Weasel. Why don't you ask your dear brother over there?" Ginny glanced at him sharply before turning her icy gaze on a cringing Ron. "I think I'll do just that."

Hermonie was trying to wipe away the blood and dirt on Ron's face, but he shoved her away crossly without taking his blue eyes off Draco.

"I only said the truth," Ron insisted with a scowl. Ginny's eyes narrowed at her brother. _I should have known he would do something like this_, she thought, sighing inaudibly. _He never could hold his temper, especially when it comes to dealing with Malfoy._

She knew that if she did not separate them soon, they would resort to all and out curses.

"Alright, I don't care who said what first. Ron, you're coming with me right now or I'm owling Mum a letter as soon as I get back to the castle. There _might_ be enough of you left for her to patch up after I'm done with you," she threatened in a sharp whisper that only Ron and Draco could hear.

A dark red flush flooded Ron's cheeks and his ears burned as Draco let out a loud, condescending laugh. "Yeah, go ahead Weasel. Listen to baby sister or you'll get put in time-out," the Slytherin mocked.

Ginny rounded on him with her hands on her hips. Her eyes hardened as she studied his face. "Drop it, Malfoy, or you're going to be the one in time-out—a permanent one, if you catch my drift."

Draco grinned humorlessly at her, spreading his arms wide. "Do you really think I care anymore, Weasley? I've faced far worse than death at the hands of Voldemort. I can tell you now, nothing you do could ever scare me. So go ahead and take your best shot." He patted his chest invitingly, urging her to use the wand in her hand. "Do you have the guts to do it though?" Draco taunted, his silver eyes boring holes into her.

Ginny seriously considered cursing him just to see how he would react, but Hermione's sharp inhale brought her back to her senses. "You'd like that, wouldn't you Voldy-wannabe? You might enjoy hurting people but I don't. So shut up and get out of my way."

After shooting the Slytherin one last disgusted glare, she grabbed Ron's arm and dragged him out of the door with Hermione following close behind. No one, least of all her, noticed the pale, shaken expression on Draco's face as he stared resolutely at the floor.

_Voldy-wannabe, huh? Well, that's certainly a new one..._


	16. Chapter 16

**First of all, I want to thank **HoneyHearts** for the review. I'm so glad that you're enjoying this story and that you think I'm not making a total disaster of Draco. ;) I'm on cloud nine now! **

**So another round of applause for all who have reviewed/read/followed this :) The last review makes me as giddy as the very first. **

**marinka, ****hatebelow, ****SamanthaSparklesInTheSun, ****roni2010, ****Icnrmoid, and ****HoneyHearts**

**Ya'll are awesome!**

**One more thing. Since I have only written half of chapter 17, *winces*, the next update might be as much as three or so days later than usual. So sorry! And right after I got the review complimenting me on updating so fast *sigh* But in my defense, I havent just been sitting on the couch eating potatoe chips-not that much anyway. I have been working on later chapters and just plain forgot about needing to finish up chapter 17. **

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Ginny stared down at the open book, her fingernail massaging her forehead, as she tried to understand just what her eight inch essay was supposed to be about. As soon as the bell rang at five o'clock, she had rushed to the library to find a book to help her with the homework that was due the next morning. Half an hour later and she had still not found anything relevant to her topic.

"I knew I shouldn't have waited to do this," she moaned quietly, laying her head down on her arms. "But I just forgot with that stupid Malfoy, detention, and the fight at Hogsmead. Hmm, I wonder how McGonagall never found out about that. Surely one of the students would have told her, the stupid suck-ups..." Her snort was slightly muffled by her arms, but Madam Pince still shot her a dirty look as she passed by.

"Anyway, maybe I'll just skip doing my homework this time," she continued to herself half-heartedly. "Hermione will have a stroke if she finds out, though. And I guess it would be useful to be able to brew some Veritaserum any time I wanted. It could come in handy."

"I agree, Weasley. You never know when you need someone to tell the absolute truth."

Ginny jerked up, her red hair flying in every direction. She stared incredulously at the smirking Slytherin that was standing in front of her. Draco casually pulled out a chair from the table and sat down, stretching out comfortably.

His silver eyes revealed nothing more than a vague amusement and curiosity. However, she knew that he must have some reason to sit with her. He would have never willingly chosen to do so unless he had dire need of something. Or he could have just been bored and decided to make her his victim of the day. Either way, she was not in the mood for guessing games.

"What do you want Malfoy? I'm kind of busy here," she snapped.

"Weasley, you wound me," he said in mock hurt, splaying a hand over his (non-existent) heart. "But if you insist, I'll tell you. I was minding my own business when I saw you sitting here all alone with such a desperate look on your face. So I, being the kind and valiant person I am, decided to see what I could do to help. And now here I am, awaiting your command."

She snorted again and crossed her arms over her chest, not buying his excuse for one minute. "Yeah right. Come on, what's the real reason you came over here? It's not like you to lower yourself to associating with blood-traitors after all," she said coolly. One eyebrow raised as if questioning her mental health, Draco settled down more comfortably in the seat.

"I sit here as a new man, Ms. Weasley. I admit, I have made some..._rash_ decisions in the past but I have put that all behind me. It would please me very much if you would consent to do the same," he stated smoothly, his face politely impassive. It made Ginny's blood boil to hear his words and see him so calm after uttering them. _How dare he suggest that I just forget everything he has done to me and the ones I care about!_ she thought crossly, drawing herself up in indignation.

"It's just too bad then, _Mr. Malfoy_, that what pleases you is about as important to me as Merlin's left buttock. Both are, shall I say, rather unappealing to me at the moment," she replied acidly. Her brown eyes sparked dangerously, testifying to her increasing temper at the audacity of the young man before her.

The corners of Draco's mouth lifted ever so slightly. It was not quite a smile but not quite a smirk either. Whatever it was, it made Ginny pause in thought. She had never actually seen him smile before, unless one could count the various times he smirked in malicious pleasure whenever a member of another House was being tormented. Nor had she heard him laugh for any reason other than the sight of Ron puking up slugs after a curse backfired on him or because of some other poor student's mishap.

_As a matter of fact, I don't think I've even seen him really happy, _Ginny remarked silently to herself._ Greedy, yes. Self-satisfied, most definitely. Cocky, all the time. But happy? Never. And here I was thinking I had him all figured out. _

"You would have made a very interesting Slytherin, Ginevra. A very interesting one indeed," Draco remarked thoughtfully, one finger tapping the tip of his pointed chin. Whatever he saw in her expression must have satisfied him, for he stood up and strolled away as if he had not a care in the world.

Ginny was left behind, her mouth gaping open in speechless bewilderment. At first, the mere thought of him implying that she would have been a good Slytherin made her want to storm on over to the dungeons and curse his sorry hide all the way to Azkaban. But as she continued musing over his words, she realized that, to him at least, it was not an insult to be called a Slytherin. He was one, after all. So if it was not intended as an insult, then what was it? Surely not what she thought!

"Did he just...compliment me?"

She felt that he had, albeit in his own twisted way. It was a rather unsettling experience for the young Gryffindor. Never before had Malfoy spoken to her in any way other than a cruel taunt or blood-chilling threat.

_How strange_, she mused as she packed away her books and parchment numbly. _How very, very strange. _Slinging the heavy bag onto her shoulder, Ginny carefully negotiated her way around a large crowd of fifth year students who were entering the library.

_He's different this year_, she realized uneasily. _More focused and controlled. It's almost as if he's trying to make up for the two years he slacked off because of his newly constricting commitment to Lord Voldemort. He doesn't spend any time socializing anymore. He just keeps his head down and tries not to be noticed. _

Before Lord Voldemort's return, and even for a short time afterwards, Draco had enjoyed sprawling out on the large couch in front of the fire in the Slytherin Dungeons, yelling orders to the first years. He also had periodically strutted along the corridors of Hogwarts, his two cronies at his back. The Slytherin was always on the lookout for unsuspecting students to prey on. But now he rarely ventured out of his room apart from traveling to and from class and regular visits to the library. During breakfast and lunch time, he snuck into the Great Hall, wolfed down his meal, and slunk off to the deserted library. He avoided human contact as much as possible outside of class time.

_It's like he's had a complete personality change! Sure, some parts of him remain, such as his infuriating superiority. But for the most part, he's more subdued, more introverted. I get the feeling that he's millions of miles away, and that only his body remains bound to Hogwarts. I can't say I blame him though, s_he mused with a sigh. _His family went through a lot, even if they did deserve it. In a way, we're kind of similar I guess. Both of us lost something precious to us that day. For Malfoy it was his family's powerful name and prestige. And for me, it was my brother. I...I understand him more this year. He just wants to get away from it all, put the past behind him and forget. _

_Yeah, we're kind of similar..._

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**Just to clarify things some, they were caught in the hall after curfew on Friday night, the Hogsmeade fight was Saturday, and this chapter is Monday afternoon right before their first detention in the greenhouses. Hope I didnt confuse anyone! ;)**

**Preview: After a few chapters, Ginny will be making her first appearence as Quidditch Captain (3rd Saturday in the story I think), and Pami will also be brought back very soon.**

**And do ya'll think this is going a little too slow? Personally, I enjoy the long stories with lots of twists and turns in relationships. However, I know that not everyone shares that opinion. I won't suddenly make them fall in love out of the blue, but I can speed things up a chapter or so...maybe ;) **


	17. Chapter 17

Sorry for the horrendously long wait but I had massive writer's block for a while, and then as soon as I got to writing again, I got sick. I wasn't able to get to my computer for over a week because of it but I'm finally back to writing now. Anyways, just a few announcements:

Pami comes back in chapter 19 :)

The next update will only take a few days, vs. over two weeks *winces*

Thanks to everyone for sticking with the story and I hope ya'll enjoy this chapter!

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Ginny glanced up from her parchment, blinking owlishly, as the sound of the bell echoed through the mostly deserted room. _Is it seven o'clock already?_ she thought with a sigh. _Time sure does fly, I guess. To bad it seems to do it only when I want it to slow down, or better yet stop altogether. _Tonight was her first night of detention with Draco in the greenhouses and she was dreading it more with every passing second.

_Why did I have to pick that night to wander the corridors after hours? _she thought with a groan. _Why couldn't I have just gone to bed and asked Hermione in the morning? I'm so stupid! Agh! And now I'm stuck with Malfoy for the next two and a half hours. _

"Lucky me," she sighed glumly.

Reluctant to leave and have to face Malfoy again, she took her time in gathering up the scattered books and pieces of mostly empty parchment. Almost without even thinking, she stuffed the ones she wanted into her book bag and headed towards the librarian's desk. Madam Pinch glanced up with pursed lips, her expression disapproving. "Yes?" she asked tartly.

Ginny bit her lip to stop herself from making a sharp remark that would surely earn her another night of detention. The stuffy old lady was all the time getting on her nerves, but the Gryffindor always made an effort to control her temper—with the staff at least. The students were a different matter entirely.

Realizing that she had stood there glaring at the polished wood desk for a few seconds, Ginny snapped out of her musings and took a deep breath before sliding the books out so Madam Pinch could stamp them.

"If you get even an ounce of ink of them, I'll ban you from the library forever," the woman threatened stiffly. Ginny barely resisted the urge to make a rude gesture and hurried out of the library. For some reason, the librarian had never liked her. Of course, she did not like any student (save for maybe Hermione and a few of the more scholarly Ravenclaws) but Ginny seemed to be at the top of her list of "Most Disliked People on Earth."

As she walked, the Gryffindor began to mentally prepare herself for hours of torture. _Just ignore him,_ she instructed sternly. _Don't look at him, don't talk to him and for Merlin's sake, don't attack him_! _I'm in enough trouble as it is._

Draco felt remarkably cheerful after his conversation with Ginny. It was not because he had enjoyed his little talk with the Weaselette, Merlin knows that was about as painful as it got, but rather because he had finally gotten his sort-of-not-quite apology off his chest.

_Ahh, it feels good to be innocent_, he thought with a fake grin that resembled a wolf barring its teeth.

As he waited for Ginny and Professor Sprout to show up, the Slytherin thought back to what he had said to the Gryffindor in the library.

"_You would have made a very interesting Slytherin, Ginevra…"_

He had not meant to say it out loud and by the time he had realized he had, it was too late to snatch the words back. The only choice he was left with was to pretend that it had been on purpose. Maybe he pulled it off and maybe he did not. To be frank, Draco did not really care what she thought of him. Why would he? She was just a blood-traitor after all, no one important.

And besides, he had spoken true. She _would_ have made an interesting House mate. Underneath that layer of idiotic recklessness and bravery was an intelligence far superior to the rest of her family—to the rest of her House as a matter of fact. No, it was not the kind of "book smarts" that Granger had. It was an innate Slytherin cunning that made her stand out—or blend in, depending on her intentions. She knew how people thought; she knew their weakness and strengths, their fears and desires. More importantly, she knew exactly what buttons to push to make them go over the edge.

But what frustrated him to no end was that she did not even use her natural abilities most of the time. No, the Weaselette put on her Gryffindor mask and acted like a good little girl whom no one would expect as having the means to draw out their every secret.

They were sort of similar, he supposed. They both had talents that set them apart from the rest but the one difference was that he chose to use his while she did not. It was so frustrating to see people waste their lives for a foolish cause. In her case, it was for that stupid Saint Potter. Just thinking his name set Draco's teeth on edge, and his wand hand twitched restlessly.

Although the Slytherin might not have the guts to actually kill his rival, he would still take the first opportunity to strike back at him and make him pay for all the pain and misery he caused him. Potter stole everything from him—his family; his good name; his Quidditch fame; his spotlight; and much, much more.

Though some may argue that Draco had never possessed any of those in the first place—save for his family perhaps, but even that was a sad sight to behold—but Draco knew better. He would have had all those things if Potter had not come along and taken them from him. Potter had always been the "It Guy," the one everyone talked about, even during their second and fourth year when many looked at the black-haired boy with suspicion and fear.

It had been impossible for Draco to stop himself from envying the power and respect the Gryffindor had commanded. So, when Draco could not find what he was looking for at home or school, he had turned to other sources.

That was when everything went wrong. He got in too deep and before he knew it, his life was completely ruined because of Him—the Dark Lord. Draco had grown up hearing about the dark wizard who terrorized the country for years but he had never really understood what made him so powerful before. At least, not until he experienced it for himself.

Fear.

Fear motivated people to do things they would otherwise never do, be it to ransack their grandfather's shop for money, to destroy entire families with one curse, to torture innocent children, or to go to Azkaban for the rest of their lives.

_When you're that afraid, you'll do anything to save your own skin. Including murder_, Draco thought grimly, remembering his own periods of mind-numbing terror. _It's easy to say that you won't do those things when you and your family are safe and sound, but when you're in the middle of a war like that, the lines become slightly more blurred_.

A bright flash of red in front of him jerked Draco out of his thoughts and he stumbled back with a half-muttered curse. "Great Merlin, Weasley. What're you trying to do? Give me a heart attack?" he demanded waspishly, brushing away imaginary lint from his robe as he attempted to calm his racing heart.

Ginny raised her eyebrows at him with a smirk. "Whatever works, Malfoy. Whatever works."

Before he could reply to that rather rude statement, the sight of Professor Sprout waddling down the path towards the greenhouses stilled his anger for the moment. "Professor," he said politely, hoping that his frustration did not show on his face. He had already gotten enough lectures from McGonagall to last him the rest of his life and he was not about to suffer through another one just because the Weaselette did not know when to keep her big mouth shut.

_Just forget about her_, he instructed himself stiffly. _Just pretend she's not even here_.

After greeting Ginny and Draco with a smile, the squat witch beckoned them into Greenhouse 1 and pointed towards a large clump of weeds in the back. "I'll give you two something easy to do tonight, since it's your first day and all. I need those weeds pulled up back there so I can ready the Abyssinian shrivelfigs for the second years. Oh, and please take care around the other plants. You might hurt them," she explained with a worried glance at a row of potted plants with wicked-looking thorns and vines that were whipping around restlessly. Once she confiscated their wands and showed them a selection of tools they could use, she nodded once to them and left.

All too soon Ginny was left standing beside Draco, rubbing her arm awkwardly.

_Blimey, the tension in here could be cut with a butter knife_, she thought to herself with a quick peek at the Slytherin. When he caught her eye, they both flushed faintly in embarrassment and he hastily grabbed the nearest tool Professor Sprout had pointed out to them.

The two went to work quietly, avoiding each other's eyes. Pulling on a pair of thick gloves that had been carelessly discarded on a nearby table, the Gryffindor knelt and began yanking up the hardy weeds

Meanwhile, beside her Draco was puzzled as to what he was supposed to do_. What in blazes is this for?_ Draco wondered as he studied the tool in his hand with a critical gaze. It had a handle and three sharp prongs pointing out from the opposite end. When he had grabbed it, he had only been thinking of finding some excuse not to converse with Ginny, and now he had no idea what he was supposed to do with the thing.

_It looks like it'd be good for cutting up those roots_, he thought uneasily, eyeing the metal tips. Shrugging, he thrust it into the ground and began to drag it back and forth. It was messy, exhausting work, pulling weeds.

Before long, Draco had miles up dirt piled up under his fingernails. His perfectly groomed hair lost its shiny glow and wilted in the humid air inside the greenhouse. Strands of it sunk down over his eyebrows, causing the Slytherin to have to pause and swipe at them angrily.

Ginny once glanced over at him to see how he was coming along, and she nearly burst out laughing at the streaks of brownish-black dirt all over his face. Her own clothes and skin were remarkably clean, thanks to years of experience working in her mother's garden at the Burrow. _He actually looks…human for once_, she thought with a soft smile, turning back to her own patch of weeds.

The time passed slowly for the two, the strained silence stretching between them like a taunt cord. Any moment it could come to the breaking point and snap. However, Ginny was determined not to be the one who spoke first. She had been through enough embarrassing moments in her life—mainly due to her idiotic brothers—to know that it was best to keep her head down and plod on until it was over.

It seemed that the rest of their detention would continue this way, until one of the supposedly harmless weeds neatly sliced Draco's hand open with its razor-sharp edge. He jerked back with a startled cry and put his hand to his mouth.

"Bloody heck! What was that for?" he demanded angrily, not remembering that he was talking to a plant. Behind him he could hear Ginny's muffled chuckles and the sound infuriated him even more.

_Poor Malfoy, foiled by a weed_, Ginny thought, grinning mercilessly. If not for the darkly muttered oaths flowing from his mouth and the winces of pain on his face, she would have made a sarcastic comment about it. But her mother had raised her to be better than that and so, even though her entire being balked at the idea of helping him of all people, she tugged off her gloves and walked over to him.

"Here, let me see it," the Gryffindor offered reluctantly, reaching for his arm. Shocked at her actions, Draco snatched his hand back with a snarl. "What do you think you're doing?" he asked warily.

Ginny shook her head at him in exasperation. "Malfoy, I grew up with six brothers. Don't you think I know how to take care of cuts? Give me a break. I'm not going to infect you with some sort of disease or anything. But forget I said anything. Bleed to death for all I care," she replied dismissively, turning her back on him.

Fuming with indignation, Draco settled for staring at the back of her head, trying his utter best to burn a hole through it. _Curse you Weasley_, he growled. _You have no idea how embarrassing this is for me. A freaking plant hurt me for Burgin's sake! And all you can do is laugh at me?_ _I thought you were a goody-two-shoes Gryffindor. Hmph. Even a Slytherin would have tossed me a rag to bind it with or something once they finished chortling to themselves. But no! You have to act all high and mighty and ignore me. _

A sharp twinge brought his gaze back down to his hand. By Salazar, it hurt! _Those weeds may look innocent, but they burn like Fiendfyre_, he thought to himself with a grimace, remembering his last and only encounter with the cursed fire.

Finally he could stand it no more and, having no wand to heal himself with nor any medical knowledge of what best to do, Draco stood in dignified silence and stalked over to Ginny.

_Don't you dare say a word_, he tried to project with his eyes as he thrust his arm towards her, not trusting his voice at the moment. It was likely that the words would come out wrong and he would end up insulting her again. At the moment, he could not afford to get on her bad side any more than he already was.

She looked up at him with a questioning look on her face. "Yes Malfoy?" she asked slowly, enjoying the growing anger in his eyes. It was so fun to make him mad.

Draco growled something unintelligent and said through gritted teeth, "Fix it Weasley." Snorting at his awkward way of asking for help, she shook her head in defiance. "Who do you think I am? Some kind of Mediwitch? Fix it yourself, you ungrateful prat." Save for the soft snapping and ripping of stems, the greenhouse was silent for a few moments. And then the one word Ginny had never expected to hear from him in her entire life registered in her ears.

"Please."

The Gryffindor slowly turned on her heels, her boots squeaking in protest. "What did you say?" she asked, her eyebrows arched as she looked him dead in the eye. Just as serious, he quietly replied, "You heard me. Now fix it."

With a hesitant nod, she took his hand and, ripping off a small corner of a spare handkerchief she had stashed away in her pocket, dabbed at the cut. Trying not to wince at the pressure, Draco stared off into the distance with a stiff expression on his face. It was clear that he found his current situation distasteful, to say the least.

_He's not the only one_, Ginny mused with a shake of her head.

The sensation of his pale, flawless skin against her rougher hand sent odd tingles shooting up her arm and infused her cheeks with an unwelcome warmth. The sheer smoothness of his palm astounded her. He was a Quidditch player like her and yet her own skin paled in comparison to his. _Maybe he baths in goat's milk every night or something_, she mused absently as she dabbed one last time at the cut.

_Stupid Malfoy, getting himself hurt by a bloody plant. If it wasn't for him, I wouldn't be touching a pure-blooded bigot_, Ginny thought darkly, her face heating up with every passing second.

Draco noticed her expression and, misinterpreting it as disgust, sneered at her scornfully. "What? Afraid to touch your superior? Don't worry, I'll be sure to decontaminate myself after tonight," he said arrogantly, the words flowing out of his mouth from mere habit.

It was strange hearing himself saying something he no longer wholly believed in. True, he still detested muggles and their strange ways, but he did not fully know where he stood on the issue of blood-traitors. The War had opened his eyes to the horrors of humanity, and he found that he could no longer look at people the same way as before.

Yes, muggles were a barbaric race at best, but so too were wizards. Take the Dark Lord, for example. His cause was right and just, and yet he stooped to using the vilest methods to achieve his goal. Others like Bellatrix and her dolt of a husband actually took pleasure in hurting their fellow brothers. Suffering and fear was what fed them. Without it they were nothing.

It was all so confusing for Draco. On one hand, his parents had raised him to believe in his own superiority. That belief had sustained him through his darkest hours and given him hope that it would not be for naught.

However, in the middle of the night, when his mind wandered lazily through shifting layers of half-truths, he found himself wondering if everything he had been taught was a lie. He had seen so much in his life, so many terrible things. Blood had been spilled at his feet, willingly or not.

But what made him pause the most was that when he saw how hard his enemies fought, how much they believed in their cause, he realized that his side was wrong. People were people, not matter the blood-type. Muggles were muggles and wizards were wizards. Half-bloods had a foot in each world, but was that really their fault?

If it had been up to him, Draco rather thought that he might have changed who his parents were. He might love them but he also hated them for helping to make him who he was. What would it have been like if he had been born to a muggle family? Although the thought made his stomach churn in disgust, it also made him think.

Would he have been any less of who he was now? How would he have looked at the world? Would he have been any more selfish and conniving than he was now? What really made a person who they were? Their surroundings? Their family? Their stations in life? Or did they forge their own character by the choices they made?

It was enough to send a shaft of ice shooting straight at Draco's heart. _This is crazy_, he thought with an inaudible gasp. _Muggles are vile! Despicable! And the idiotic wizards who side with them are even worse! No, _he realized slowly._ That is what Father says. And I am not my father—not any more at least. He no longer controls my thoughts and actions. I am my own person and my thoughts reflect that._ _I…am changing who I am, even though it scares the heck out of me_.

Ginny noticed that Draco had gone silent, his eyes dull and unfocused. Curiosity rose within her and begged to investigate, but she pushed it down sternly. Now was not the time to ask him any questions. Why, she did not know. Some part of her seemed to sense that he was mulling something over in his head, something important. Whatever the reason for her suppositions, she remained quiet and went back to gently cleaning the cut on his hand.

"There, all done," she remarked cheerfully a few moments later, having tied the last knot on the bandage. Draco blinked at her dumbly and looked down at his hand in confusion. "What?" he asked numbly, finally coming out of his daze. Shaking himself, the Slytherin tipped his head at Ginny slowly, a thoughtful frown on his face.

"Thank you," he forced out. "Really. Thanks."

After shooting him an odd look, Ginny hesitantly replied, "You're welcome Malfoy. Um, I'm just…going to get back to work I guess." And then, for the first time in far too long, Draco smiled. "Yeah. Me too."


	18. Chapter 18

So things are beginning to thicken between Draco and Ginny, romance (sort of) starting to blossom. Let me know if you think it's going too fast or too slow. Thanks so much! Enjoy :)

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They both settled into a more relaxed routine, working beside each other comfortably. Ginny was diligently tugging away at one particularly stubborn piece of grass when she noticed a lone flower peaking between two stacks of flower pots on the other side of the room.

Immediately her face brightened and she scrambled over to it on all fours. Its delicate, cupped petals shone in the muted sunlight that streamed down from the ceiling of the greenhouse. "Oh," the Gryffindor sighed breathlessly, reaching out a finger to gently run down one of its petals.

Draco noticed her awestruck expression and raised an eyebrow in question. "It's a flower, Weasley. Not like it's one of Potter's signed love letters or anything," he stated matter-of-factly before remembering that the two had broken up not too long ago. Holding back a small wince of rare guilt, the Slytherin waited for the tears and sob story typical of heart-broken teenage girls. But it never came.

Instead, Ginny merely continued stroking the soft petals of the white flower, seemingly oblivious to his rising bemusement.

"It's a gladiolus," she finally explained, turning to face him with a distracted smile. By his puzzled expression, she gathered that he had no idea what she was talking about. With a sigh, she continued, "a gladiolus is a type of flower. It comes in all different colors but the shape of its petals remains the same. I guess you could say it's my favorite flower."

With a still slightly confused nod of understanding, Draco turned back to his weeding, mumbling under his breath about weird girly ideas and once she even heard him say, "Honestly! It's _just_ a flower!"

His comment brought another smile to Ginny's face. It reminded her of something Fred would have said. With a slow shudder, the Gryffindor pulled her gaze away from the flower and walked over to join him once again. _He's nothing like Fred_, she told herself grimly. _Nothing at all._ However, she could not quell the curiosity Draco created inside of her.

It suddenly occurred to her that she had smiled around him more often since she came back to Hogwarts than she had at home with her own family. In fact, feelings she had not felt for so long blossomed in his presence. Anger, frustration, amusement. She felt them all and more. Of course, it was nothing romantic. That would have been a scary thought indeed.

What he did to her was more like the sun revitalizing a withered flower—even though he was far from a bright and sunny individual. He revived her mind, caused her to smile and smirk and laugh and yell and everything else. It was a disturbing revelation but she forced the matter out of her mind, filing it away for later study. There was already enough for her to think about at the moment, so why should she add any more complications?

Draco suprised her when broke the silence mere seconds later. Normally he reveled in silence; it was his friend, his comforter. He knew where he stood with silence. Nothing was expected of him then. However, something inside of him seemed to yearn to speak out, to pretend to be normal for once. He wrestled with the desire but the lonely part of him won out in the end, and the words slipped out.

"So what's your favorite color then?"

It sounded so random and strange coming from his lips but Ginny did not mind. In fact, she was rather pleased at his question. Not many people asked her what her favorite color was. They were either too interested in her relationship status with Harry or wanted to pry into her personal life for information to fuel the gossip. Her family already knew everything about her, or at least they thought they did, and as such never questioned her on such trivial matters.

Draco mentally prepared himself for a stupid Gryffindor answer such as red or gold. Did they not realize all that crimson and yellow was going to their heads? Just because they were their House colors did not mean that every Gryffindor student had to mold themselves into miniature Godric Gryffindors.

Now that he thought of it, that would be a complete nightmare! He winced, seeing in his mind's eye all the Gryffindors running after him with very sharp, very pointy swords. It was a childish thought, but it took his mind off the grimmer facts of life—such as the traitorous ache in his left arm. It had bothered him more lately for some reason.

Ginny looked at him with a secret twinkle in her eyes, not noticing the pained glances he shot towards his arm. "Peridot actually. Well, it's not a color, per say, but a gem with a very distinctive color. The way it sparkles in the sun, the gentle hints of golden-yellow shimmering out. It's beautiful."

Draco found himself nodding his head obediently, although inside he was asking what in Merlin's beard pero…peride…per whatever was. _It must be gold_, he decided. _After all, she did mention "golden-yellow."_ He resisted the urge to jump up and shout "I told you so!" That was sure to set off alarm bells in her head, and the Slytherin was feeling much too unlike himself already. Being around her did strange things to his mind.

Ginny felt a small smirk tug at her lips. She knew that he had no idea what she was talking about but he still managed to keep a politely blank face that revealed none of his confusion. It was a rather impressive act actually. Ron would have looked at her as if she was crazy and said that the only colors to choose from were red, blue, yellow, and gr—wait, no. He would not mention green at all. It was a matter of House pride, after all.

On the other hand, Draco was actually thinking about what she said and trying to recall if he had ever heard of a color similar to what she had described. She doubted that he had. It did not seem in his nature to go about learning all the different colors of the world. He looked but he did not observe. The corners of her lips twitched at the thought. Yes, she had read parts of Sherlock Holmes before. Albeit only over Hermione's shoulder, but she had still read it. She had been trying to see if her answer to an essay question was right, but Hermione had conveniently moved her book in the way.

The two spent the rest of their detention quietly pulling away at the weeds, neither saying a word nor daring to look in the other's direction. However, Ginny could finally stand it no more and she took a deep breath before asking casually, "So, now that you know mine, what's your favorite color?"

Draco's shoulders tensed up beneath his robe, the lean muscles bulging for a moment before he forced himself to relax. "I don't have one," he replied brusquely. It was an innocent question, nothing was meant by it. She was merely returning the favor of feigned interest.

Ginny rolled her eyes at his cold manner. "Oh come on! Just a second ago you were ready to laugh at me because I told you that I thought gladioli were pretty. Now you're going back to the tough guy routine? Don't get your knickers in such a twist, Malfoy. It's not like I'm going to start thinking we're best friends or anything. I'm just curious, that's all."

With a resigned sigh, the Slytherin set down the clump of weeds he had just pulled and sat back on his heels. "Well, I've never really thought about it before. I guess I would have to say green," he replied reluctantly, clearly wishing that he had never brought up the subject in the first place.

Ginny snorted, causing him to glance at her oddly.

"What? What's wrong with green?" he demanded defensively. Without taking her eyes off the thin stems in front of her, the red-haired girl shook her head. "Nothing, nothing at all. It's just that I had hoped for a real answer, not a Slytherin answer," she replied innocently. Draco blew out his breath through pursed lips and briefly entertained the thought of hexing her. At least then she would not pester him with useless questions.

_**Well, you did think the same thing when you asked her**_, a small part of his mind piped up. _**It's only fair that you give her the same courtesy**_**.**

_Shut it, you_, he shot back. "Stupid Gryffindors," he muttered under his breath, "always turning your words back on you. And they call us Slytherins sneaky. Hmph. Bloody hypocrites."

Knowing that she would not rest until he gave her an answer, Draco searched through his mind for a safe, neutral color. Green had not worked with her, and red was completely out of the question. Blue reminded him too much of snobby Ravenclaws, yellow….bleh. Yellow was for puny Hufflepuffs. No way was he going to say yellow. Finally, the perfect answer came to him, and he smirked over at Ginny triumphantly.

"Black."

Ginny shook her head in amusement at his answer. She had expected something along that line. It frustrated her that she had opened up to him and he did not feel inclined to answer her truthfully on a simple question. All she had asked for was his favorite color! It was not as if she was prying into his personal life and asking him how many girls he kissed or something!

Blood rushed up her neck at that train of thought. "Stop it," she hissed under her breath. _Stupid, stupid brain_, she thought savagely. _This is Malfoy I'm talking about! It's not like it's Harry. So why am I feeling so flustered? I'm never flustered! Well, except for those years when Harry was around and I had such an embarrassing crush on him, but still. That's even worse! What am I thinking, comparing him to Harry? Harry's nice, sweet, brave, handsome, down-to-earth in a saint-like way, and so incredibly wonderful. He saved the entire world for Merlin's sake! Malfoy's just…Malfoy. Nothing special. _

Finally, their detention time was up and, as they were putting away the gloves and tools, Ginny gathered up her courage and remarked, "You should have Madam Pomfrey look at that. You know, just to make sure it doesn't get infected or anything."

Draco tilted his head to the side with a growing smirk and leaned against the greenhouse door. "Why? You getting worried about me, Weasley? I never knew you cared so much. I'm touched, really I am," he retorted, remarkably playful. His response surprised Ginny enough that she simply stared at him with her mouth open.

About a stunned moment of silence, she stalked past him with a scowl upon her face. "Get over yourself Malfoy. I just don't want to be blamed when your hand falls off from disease. And I want that handkerchief back!" The answering laugh that echoed from behind her sent the Gryffindor scurrying faster up the path back towards the castle.

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Yes, I know, these last few chapters haven't been the ground-breaking, awe-inspiring ones ya'll deserved, but hopefully they weren't too bad :) Thanks for reading!

Oh, and due to an important, upcoming event, I won't be able to update for a little longer than usual. So sorry, but I am working on writing the next few chapters, so hopefully it won't take too long. I just won't have the time to update like usual.


	19. Chapter 19

_Yay! Finally updated lol :)_

_Anyways, just a few thanks to say:_

**_narcissamalfoyjwilliams11, _**_for follow and favorite. _

**_Abby, _**_for review. I'm really glad that you're enjoying it! Thanks :)_

**_marinka, _**_yeah I realized you were right as soon as I saw the pic and I agree that it looked nothing like a sword. the only reason I wrote it like that at first was because I had heard it described that way before lol. Once again, thanks for your help. You're awesome! :)_

**_hatebelow, _**_hehe did you know that peridot is Ginny's birthston and gladiolus is her birth flower? When I found out, I was like "AHHHH! I have to incorporate this somehow!" Cause it's really cool how everything ties together in the books._

_Named for the shape of their leaves, _gladioli_ – from the Latin word "gladius," meaning sword – have a history than spans from Africa to the Mediterranean. Symbolizing strength and moral integrity, gladioli also represent infatuation, with a bouquet conveying to a recipient that they pierce the giver's heart with passion. Striking and colorful with towering stems, this August birth flower and 40th wedding anniversary flower evoke the drama of Roman gladiators. _

_August's birthstone, the _perido_t, symbolizes strength. It is sometimes called the evening emerald for its light green color. It was once believed that the green peridot crystals found in volcanic ashes were the tears of the volcano goddess, Pele. When set in gold, this gem was said to protect the wearer from nightmares._

_It's so amazing how they fit Ginny perfectly. J.K. Rowling is a genius ;)_

_**Tom Riddle Minor**, for reviewing both The Power of Flight and Life Goes On. So glad that you liked the first and are reading this one._

**_somewhereelse5c5, _**_f__or favorite_

**_Everlasting-Scars, _**_for follow_

**_NaomiJane1993, _**_for follow_

**_Yel-kun 310, _**_for favorite _

**_nedermg, _**_for follow_

_So, so, so sorry if I forgot to mention someon or if I mentioned them twice between chapters. It's hard keeping up with everyone lol. Anyways, thanks so much! Ya'll are great :)_

* * *

By the next day, Draco's unusually chipper mood had settled back into his normal snarkiness. The high-pitched squeals coming from the terrified first years as he stormed past them gave the Slytherin a twisted sense of pleasure. _Just like old times_, he thought almost fondly before remembering why his mood had soured in the first place.

_Stupid She-Weasel, getting me to actually laugh and smile. I'm not some kind of puppet whose strings she can pull to produce the desired effect_, he snarled to himself.

In truth, the blond was embarrassed and confused by his earlier actions. He had never felt as carefree as he had in the greenhouse with Ginny. It was an unsettling feeling. He had acted without thinking and that was why he was now avoiding everyone wearing red and gold. Though it was unlikely they would cross paths since they did not share any classes together, Draco was taking no chances.

Contrary to his thoughts, Ginny had in fact realized that he was avoiding her. It struck her as strange that he would feel the need to do so simply because of one afternoon of talking, but then it hit her that Draco would not view it as merely socializing. Most likely he thought that he was dishonoring everything he believed in by acting friendly towards her.

_Silly Malfoy_, she thought with an exasperated shake of her head. _Not everyone is out to get you._ If she was being honest with herself, she felt kind of sorry for him. He had no friends to talk to, no one to confide in.

Maybe that was why he had asked her what her favorite color was. Maybe he was trying to act like a normal teenager for once, not like a former Death Eater. Whatever the reason, the Gryffindor was determined to make it happen again.

During her free period Ginny went to the library to drop off the books she had checked out the night before. There she found a familiar face sitting at one of the desks, studying hard with a look of absolute confusion on her face. "Hey, it's Pami right? Mind if I sit here?" Ginny asked hesitantly, setting her bag down on the table.

Pami looked up and smiled brightly in response. "Oh! Hi. Sure you can sit with me. You're Ginny, from Potions class. Thanks for helping me get the potion right, by the way. Slughorn was really impressed," the blue-eyed girl chatted happily as she pushed aside a thick tome to make room for Ginny.

Waving off the praise with an unconcerned air, Ginny settled into the chair and drug out her Defense Against the Dark Arts essay from the recesses of her book bag. Professor Blackhurst had begun the year by giving a short review of the lessons previous teachers had taught them, but now he had moved on to new topics. The current lesson Ginny was on was about Dementors and other such high-level beasts.

"So, what're you working on? Ahh, Blackhurst. Yeah, I'm having trouble with that too. Do you know what he means by 'and please define the classification of beast vs. being in your fourth paragraph using references to Stump's speech on Beast Division,' because I certainly don't," Pami said with an eye-roll. Her feelings on the matter were clear; it could not get any more boring without becoming a sub-topic for History of Magic.

Ginny leaned across the table and strained her eyes to read what Pami had already written on her paper. "Well, I think he's talking about Minister of Magic Grogan Stump. He's the one who defined the classification 'Beast' in 1811 and created the Beast Division as part of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Halfway through his term, he made a speech about it and stated that there were, in fact, three divisions of creatures: Being, Beast, and...aha! Spirit Divisions," Ginny explained in satisfaction, proud that she actually remembered her lessons in History of Magic.

Scribbling madly, Pami nodded in acknowledgement of the red-haired girl's words, a tiny frown of concentration appearing between her eyebrows. "Three divisions...Beast...Minister of Magic...aaaaand done! Thank you so, so, so, so, so much! You're amazing, really you are. How in the world did you remember all that? Surely Blackhurst didn't tell us that. Or maybe he did and I just wasn't listening," the blond murmured half to herself.

Snapping back to the present, Pami beamed across the table at Ginny. "So, is there anything you need my help for? I can't offer much in the way of Potions or Transfiguration, but I might be able to help a little in Herbology."

Ginny's free period flew by, her time happily filled with the constant chatter of her fellow Gryffindor. She could tell that she had made a great friend, one that would actually talk to her instead of staring in wide-eyed awe. Just because she had fought in the War did not mean she was some kind of hero. No, Ginny left that particular occupation for Harry, Hermione, and Ron. They were the real heroes. All she had done was defend her classmates. There was nothing special about that.

Meanwhile, while Ginny was studying alongside her new friend, Draco was enduring another one of Professor Blackhurst's lessons. It was not that he disliked the man, per se, but the class was not one of his favorites by definition. Too many bad memories were stored within the topics discussed.

"Alright, everyone settled down now. Can anyone tell me what we learned yesterday? Yes, Ms. Davis," Blackhurst nodded towards the brunette. Tracey Davis smiled, pleased with gaining his attention. "You told us about Thestrals and how they earned the danger classification XXXX. You also briefly highlighted on Grogan Stump who was...um...Minister of Magic! He created the Beast, Being, and Spirit classification."

Draco rolled his eyes and slumped down further in his chair as he tried to force his thoughts out of the classroom. _Is this a Defense Against the Dark Arts class or Care of Magical Creatures class?_ he thought with a snort.

Zabini noticed the disdainful expression on his Housemate's face and, leaning across the aisle, whispered, "So, when are you planning to have tryouts? We don't have long, you know."

After shooting a hard look at the too-interested girl sitting next to him, Draco casually shifted in his seat, resting his hands behind his head. "Oh, I don't know. This Saturday maybe? Father sent me a letter the other day and I might have to return home soon. For a day only," he added, seeing Zabini's narrowed eyes. "Don't worry, I'll be sure to schedule try outs before that happens. Do you honestly think that I'm going to let my one and only year as Quidditch Captain go by with missing tryouts?" Draco asked with a smirk, feeling less assured of himself than he let on.

What if he was not any good at leading the team? What if no one listened to him? His reputation and respect levels had already taken a nose-dive after the War, and now many did not fear the consequences of going against him. Without his name and two cronies, Crabbe and Goyle, to back him up, Draco was left feeling like he had been dumped in a strange forest...at night...by himself...with no food...and no wand. All he could do was play it by ear and see how it went. Maybe he would not make a complete fool out of himself. Then again, with his current luck he would most likely come out of it feeling like Ron Weasley after his N.E.W.T.s tests.

Zabini raised an eyebrow in vague amusement. "Well, I honestly don't know anymore. You weren't very..._active_ at Quidditch the past two years. What's to say that's changed?" he inquired seriously, his dark eyes revealing nothing.

Something hard and sharp dropped to the bottom of Draco's stomach as he stared back at his Housemate. He had never really liked Zabini, but because of their families' close ties, everyone expected them to get along. So the two had struck up a sort of truce. As long as Zabini respected Draco's leadership, Draco would let Zabini get away with most of his comments in a way no one else could. However, that truce ended the moment the War for Hogwarts began, or at least it did in Draco's mind. He could never be quite sure with Zabini. One moment the dark-skinned young man was coolly polite, the next he was plotting his roommate's death.

"Don't worry," Draco repeated coldly, "I'll be there. The question is, will you?"

Zabini nodded in apparent satisfaction and turned back towards the front of the room. However, he could not resist scoring one more point against his Housemate. "Oh, and Draco? You do remember how to ride a broom don't you? I know you didn't get much practice living under the Dark Lord and all, but do try to not make a fool out of yourself. I aim to win this year, and I'm not going to let anything get in the way of that. Not even you."

"Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Zabini, would you two are to enlighten us to your discussion. No? Well then, pay attention or you'll be copying pages ninety through two hundred out of the textbook in detention. Without wands, of course," Blackhurst added with a small smile, seeing the hardened expressions on the two young men's faces.

_Merlin, I love being a teacher._

* * *

_Just to clarify about the Beast vs. Being part, a **Beast** is one of the three classifications used by the Ministry of Magic to catalogue the various magical creatures that inhabit the wizarding world. Loosely defined, a Beast is a magical creature that does not have sufficient intelligence to understand the laws of the magical community nor bear part of the responsibility in shaping those laws. The current definition was laid down by Minister for Magic Grogan Stump in 1811, and the Beast Division was formed as part of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures._

_Also, XXXX is not supposed to stand for some randome number. It's the actual classification._

_Yes! Pami's back! And I really enjoyed writing that part between Draco and Zabini. Yep, Draco is the Quidditch Captain for Slytherin. Hmm, wonder how that'll work out with Ginny being the Captain for Gryffindor ;)_

_So, what do ya'll think of everyone? Think I'm writing them in character (or near enough not to hand me over to the sharks)?_

_I can't wait for their first Quidditch practice. *rubs hands deviously*_


	20. Chapter 20

_Sorry for the long wait, but this week has been crazy for me. My sister's going to the hospital in the morning to be induced (it's a girl YAY!) but next week will hopefully be a lot calmer and I'll have more time to write. Okay, so just a few comments:_

**Hypersophz101- **thanks for the follow! :)

**roni2010- **so glad that you liked it!

**Fred**_- First of all, thank you for telling me what you thought. I love to hear back from readers and see how my story is working out. I know it's far, far, far (a billion more fars) away from perfect lol. But anyway, on to the answers: Why would Ron care what Ginny thought? Well, she is his sister (yes, he may not listen to her, but I still think he might be a little unnerved when she gets into her "angry Molly mode") While he may not fear her, he does fear his mother to an extent and Ginny reminds me of Molly at times with her temper. Also, he wouldn't want her telling Molly about the fight because then he would get another Howler (and he was pretty embarrassed the first time). As for your other question, Why would Draco be allowed back into the Three Broomsticks after using an Unforgivable on Rosmerta, I think that after everything that happened, they would allow him one more chance even if he doesn't particularly deserve it. After all, they let him come back to Hogwarts didn't they? Yeah, so that was my doing, but you get the point hopefully ;) I just see it as a reluctant acceptance that he would be allowed back in after his charges were dropped after the War. They might not like it, but they allow it. Most of them, anyway. Does this clear things up any? If not, I'm really sorry. Like I said before, I know that my story is far from perfect even with the help of a beta reader, and I'm glad when someone takes the time to point out where I could improve. Thank you again for your review! :)_

**Rosalind**_- yeah I know, but would Draco really admit that Ron did better than him? Also, being a perfect isn't just about grades. It has to do with maturity and responsibility too, both of which Ron hasn't really been known for until the last few books. Besides, Draco was doing better than Ron up until he joined Death Eaters, which caused him to slack off. However, I am really glad you reviewed, and I just wanted to thank you for telling me how you see the story. I hope that part didn't turn you off to it. Everyone has their own opinions and sees things differently. I hope that 've cleared up my thinking a little bit and showed you why I wrote it the way I did. If not, I sincerely apologize (again lol)._

**Samafajo**_- thanks so much for the follow! :) Hope I don't disappoint you with the rest lol_

* * *

Draco turned the handkerchief over and over between his fingers absently as he gazed along the path towards the castle. Half-formed thoughts swirled around inside his head, taunting him relentlessly. Not a moment's peace was his to claim.

He kept replaying his conversation with Ginny over and over in his mind. Why had he been so light-hearted? Why had he joked with her and even smiled at her? It was not in his nature to take an action at face-value. No, he had to analyze and deconstruct it to search for the hidden agenda. There was no one on Earth who did something merely out of the goodness of their hearts.

So why did he do it? He himself did not know. Perhaps that was the most frustrating fact of all. And then there was Ginny's reaction. At first she had acted just as cool to him as always, but towards the end she seemed to have opened up somewhat. Why was that? What was she trying to gain? Was it all some kind of game for her?

It was all so confusing for the Slytherin. Never before had he felt so helpless, so flabbergasted—not even in his sixth year had he felt this way. At least then he had some inkling of what was expected of him, but now? He had no idea what Ginny wanted from him. Was she trying to "butter him up" to get information out of him for Potter and his gang? Or did she merely do it for fun, to see how far she could bend his thoughts out of shape?

For that was exactly what she had done. His entire thought process was out of sync. Whenever he tried to focus on his lessons, her quiet laugh echoed through his ears, drowning out all other sound. The twinkle in her eye was reflected in every window pane he passed. It was enough to drive him mad! He did not like her, not even as a friend. So why was he so distraught? What had she done to him?

The sensation of soft fabric caressing his fingers finally registered in his brain, and Draco glanced down at the handkerchief in his hand with a surprised expression on his face.

_Hmm, I suppose she'll want this back today_, he mused with a thoughtful frown. _Maybe I can bribe her with it for silence so I won't have to listen to her irritating chatter. I really don't care what her favorite flower or whatever is._

A tiny voice piped up from the back of his mind that it was him, after all, who had asked her what her favorite color was.

_Oh shut up_, he snarled back to the imaginary voice. _I've had enough out of you. _Taking a deep, calming breath, Draco resolved to put the matter out of mind for the moment. _I'll just ask her why she acted the way she did. Simple as that. What could go wrong?_

After standing there for another fifteen minutes, Ginny and Professor Sprout appeared in the distance, walking down the path at a relaxed pace. A growl rose in Draco's throat as he fought down the urge to shout at them.

"Come on," he grumbled under his breath, "I haven't got all day, you know!"

Ginny nodded absently in response to Sprout's chatter, her eyes riveted on the trim figure ahead of her. Outwardly he appeared calm, bored even. But his eyes betrayed the frustration their last appearance had caused him. Those shinning grey orbs stared down at her as if it was completely her fault. They condemned her for keeping him waiting.

However, she had the uncomfortable feeling that he blamed her for something else as well. A mixture of confusion and tense frustration swirled around in the inky depths, drawing her in like a fish on a lure. However, a quick blink broke the spell, and Ginny turned her head away from the sight of him. She felt warm, a something's-not-right-and-I-don't-know-what-to-do-about-it kind of warmth. It was so strange! But she did not have long to ponder it, as Professor Sprout began to instruct them on their detention for the day.

"Hmm, hmm. Well, you two did such a good job yesterday that I decided to let you have some fresh air and sunshine. Instead of working in the greenhouses, you'll be helping Hagrid look for Wiggenbushes near the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Professor Slughorn requested a few baskets for Potions class, so be sure to dig up as many as you can today," she beamed encouragingly before turning around and unlocking greenhouse three. Seeing the hesitant expressions on the two students' faces, she waved them off. "Well, go on. Hagrid's waiting for you near his hut," the witch explained.

After exchanging a bemused, unsure look, Ginny and Draco shrugged and began the long trek to the edge of the Forbidden Forest. A slow breeze danced past their faces, bringing with it the smell of pine needles and cooking meat. The familiar smell brought a smile to the Gryffindor's face, and she increased her pace in excitement.

Draco noticed the warm gleam in her eyes and wondered what brought it on. Surely it was not because of the oaf of a half-giant? Why would she be happy to see him? Potter, Granger, and the Weasel were the ones the mammoth man always asked about and gushed over. Then again, he did protect her from a stray curse during the fight for Hogwarts. Perhaps she was merely anxious to thank him for saving her.

Soon all that was left of the greenhouses was a vague outline in the distance, the setting sun casting long shadows across the field. There was a distinctive chill in the air, and Ginny was soon stuffing her hands into her robe pockets for warmth. Beside her, Draco pulled up his collar and hunched his shoulders with a scowl.

"I hate the cold," he muttered half to himself. Shaking her head at him in amusement, the Gryffindor took a deep breath and pursed her lips, blowing out slowly. A wispy cloud of ice crystals drifted out of her mouth and floated tranquilly away on the breeze.

Smiling absently, Ginny thought back to when Fred had shown her how to ice skate on their frozen pond in the back yard and how their breath had fogged over, causing eruptions of gleeful giggles to fill the air. It was such a happy time, a time before Fred became too old to play silly children's games with his little sister. Because that was all she was to him: a little sister, too young to know when to stop asking to join in her older siblings' Quidditch games.

But now, looking back on that day, she found that she would not trade it for the world. One day, that was all it was; one day she had spent with her brother. One precious, precious day.

"Do you ever regret taking some things for granted?" she dared to ask, her soft voice taking Draco by surprise.

"What?" questioned the Slytherin, pausing in his walk to face her. Ginny looked over at him out of the corner of her eye. "Do you regret making the choices you did? Taking things for granted?" she rephrased carefully, now fully committed to the inquiry.

She was curious to see what his thoughts were, what he felt about his mistakes. Was he remorseful? Did he feel guilty for what he did? Or was he as cold-hearted as everyone else said and simply did not care about the past? _He must have some regrets in life_, she thought with a frown.

"I…. I suppose so," he answered vaguely, his eyes sliding away from hers. He had the uncomfortable feeling that she was deciphering his unspoken words and filing them away to study later. _How very Slytherin of her_, he mused, half angry and half amused. _At least she is learning to use her talents to get what she wants. It's just too bad she decided to use me as her lab rat._

"Well? What are they?" Ginny probed gently.

Her earnest curiosity was disconcerting. Surely she did not care what he thought! She was good, he was evil, there was no grey in between. Or at least, that was what he had been told.

_Fine, if you really want to know, then I'll tell you_, he thought viciously, a familiar smirk playing across his lips. Games were what he was good at, and games were what he was going to play.

"I regret not cursing Potter when I had the chance. I also regret ever meeting you, for you have since been nothing but a pain in the neck for me. I regret taking silence and privacy for granted, since I've had nothing but your irritating chatter for the past few days. Now, I believe we have a detention to work off," Draco stated casually, walking forward once more. Behind him he could hear a disappointed sigh as Ginny realized that, today at least, she was not going to get any answers out of him.

_That ought to teach her not to pry into other people's business_, the Slytherin thought with a fleeting grin.

However, the "cold-shoulder" he had given her only served to increase Ginny's curiosity. What went on behind that mask of his? Who was the real Draco Malfoy?

_Alright Malfoy_, she thought, a devilish smirk growing on her face, _two can play at that game._


	21. Chapter 21

_So how did I go from updating every two days to updating every two weeks (give or take a few days)? Hmm, interesting. Anyways, thanks everyone for putting up with me and sticking with the story. Yall are awesome! _

_Thanks _**SevaraJasminePotter**_ for the follow :) _

**samanjajo**_ for the favorite! _

**roni2010**_ for all your wonderful reviews. You're amazing :D_

**Homerunhitter**_ for the review. Sorry it took me so long lol. I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint. _

_I'm so sorry if I left anyone out. You know who you are, so thank you sooo much! :) _

* * *

"So when Ron woke up the next morning, his entire room was full of dungbombs. Mum blamed Fred and George, of course."

"Yes, from what I remember of them, they _would_ have been the most likely suspects."

Grinning over at Draco, Ginny was startled to see a quiet glimmer of admiration in his pale, flickering eyes. It was a reluctant admiration, but admiration nonetheless. The irony of her discovery did not escape the Gryffindor's notice.

_How interesting_, she mused to herself, the corners of her mouth fluttering upwards.

"So did she ever find out that it was you who did it?" Draco asked in absent curiosity, swatting aside a stray branch in his search for more Wiggenbushes to stuff in his basket.

Being this close to the Forbidden Forest had his senses on high alert, more than ready to flee at any hint of danger. He had learned his lesson in his first year with that idiot Potter and Longbottom. Really, what kind of professor was that oaf of a half-giant to force innocent first years to enter the Forbidden Forest? It was off-limits for a _reason_, after all.

The Gryffindor lifted her head, eyes wide with innocence. "Whoever said _I_ did it? I just said Mum told Fred and George off for it," she replied slyly, giving him a quick wink.

Rocking back on his heels, the blond blinked rapidly and tried to ignore the strange new sensation creeping up on him. The afternoon had started off normal enough, with him being his usual cold, distant self. Not even his own promise to ask her about her actions the day before was enough to make him open his mouth. Simply put, he refused to indulge her idiotic—not to mention infuriating—need for conversation.

Nevertheless, the annoyingly irresistible chatter of Ginny soon lured him from his self-induced isolation. As soon as he was aware of the bewitching effect she was having on his tongue, he clammed up again, resorting to shooting dark glares her way every time he was tempted to speak.

_Stupid Weasleys_, the Slytherin mused glumly. _Don't they ever shut up?_

Eventually—_and unfortunately_, he added with a forlorn sigh—, he found himself joining in on the tale again, making a query here and there about a matter he was unsure of. Often times he would make a dry, only half thought-out remark about her or her brothers and would be rewarded with a startlingly genuine chuckle from the redhead.

Every time she let out one of those warm, hearty laughs, he would shake his head in sincere confusion. He was not _trying_ to be funny. He was merely stating the truth, he argued. However, the Gryffindor would not accept his protests.

"That's what makes it so hilarious, Malfoy," Ginny would retort with a smirk. She was becoming frighteningly good at them. In fact, he was sure that if seen side by side with his, half the school would faint in terror. "I've finally found someone who agrees with me that my brothers are definitely not human. I've been trying to convince Mum and Dad of that for years!"

The borrowed handkerchief laid forgotten deep within Draco's pocket the entire time. He made no move to draw it out, for he was sure that as soon as he did, reality would come rushing back. It was a foolish presumption, but he stubbornly clung to it anyway.

If she had the handkerchief to remind her of the previous day and how he had acted, she would question him on it, and then he would be forced to say something he would regret later. It was not that he _wanted _to push her away (though the cowardly part of him still argued that he _did_ want to—very badly, in fact), but that he was content with laughing and talking to her as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

Nothing could be farther from the truth. Never in his wildest dreams would he have suspected that one day he would be sitting here beside the youngest Weasley, chatting away as if they were the best of friends. It was just not _normal_. But for the moment at least, he was determined to enjoy the sight of her sparkling brown eyes and the feeling of peace that stemmed from them.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Draco glanced at Ginny out of the corner of his eye. What had they been talking about again? Oh yes, her supposed "innocence." The mischief lurking beneath that layer of laughter in her eyes betrayed her, however, and he inwardly smiled—another unfortunate effect of talking to her. Now that his face had discovered the muscles required for the act, it that seemed that he could not stop using those muscles.

"Oh, I don't know. Perhaps the fact that I've seen your handiwork before and know that you would not have let the Weasel get away with ripping your Gwenog Jones poster," Draco replied with a wry smirk.

Families had always interested him, especially ones with many children. Being an only child himself, he had no experience fighting with siblings. The fact did not set well with him for some reason.

_Why would I want a brother or sister?_ he asked himself in disgust. _The only good thing about having siblings is that you have someone to beat into the dirt during Quidditch matches, and I had Crabbe and Goyle for that. _

His chest tightened imperceptibly at the thought of his old companion._ Crabbe_...

The Slytherin had not thought of him in some time—or at least he had tried not to. Even though the boy had been a stupid dolt with a bottomless stomach, Crabbe _had_ always been there beside Draco in a way others had not. They grew up together, played Quidditch together, bullied idiotic Gryffindors together. And then to suddenly lose that constant presence? It was unnerving to realize that he was alone for the first time in his life. Even during his sixth year, he had known that Goyle and Crabbe would be there if he ever needed them. But then when they turned on him, outright _defied_ him even, well...

It had not been the most pleasant experience by far.

Only the sensation of a sturdy hand on his shoulder pulled him away from his thoughts, and he blinked up at the slim figure blocking the light. Her eyebrows were drawn together in a frown, her lips turned downward. But what really caused his stomach to clench was the sympathetic warmth in her eyes as she nodded slowly at him.

"It's okay. We were all hurt that day. It's okay," she repeated gently, her gaze never wavering from his startled one. It had taken her so long to speak up, but when she did, she was glad she had taken that step off the cliff. Even if he rejected her, she would know that he heard her and realized what she wanted him to know.

_You're not alone... _

He did not even wonder at how she instinctively knew what he was thinking, how she was able to switch gears so smoothly. She just did, and that was all that mattered.

Heat blossomed across his chest as he leaned towards her unconsciously. The moment he realized what he was going, he jerked back in horror, yanking his shoulder away from her hand in the process.

_Too much_, his brain screamed, _too soon_. _Run away and don't look back._ _Never look back. _It was an instinct ingrained in him from his life first as a Malfoy and then again as a Death Eater. _If you can't beat them, run before they beat you. _And oh, how he wanted to run.

"I don't need _your_ sympathy, Weasley," Draco retorted quickly, throat threatening to close up on him at any moment. _Too close!_

There was one second, one brief second when he thought he saw a faint flash of hurt in her eyes. Time seemed to slow down and emphasize the raw emotion displayed on her all too perfect face. That one second was enough to make him want to snatch his words back from the very air itself.

Why was it so difficult to say such things? To make her hurt like he made others hurt? Why did he feel as if he had stolen all the wonder and brightness from the world with just six simple words?

It was so tragic and so poetic that he wished he could have stopped time just long enough to describe the scene on parchment. The sunlight striking her fiery hair, turning it into a blaze of deep reds and auburns; her forehead creased in the half-moment of confusion, and the way it smoothed over as she understood what he was doing. Her lips were a vivid slash against her pale white skin dotted with sparse freckles, the tips turned ever downward. Innocently big brown eyes once so full of foreign warmth now seemed dull compared to how they had looked at him mere seconds ago.

_She's beautiful, _he realized with a start, inhaling sharply.

How could one person manage to look so cold and so warm at the same time? Loathing, or what appeared to be loathing to him, sparked in her eyes now and showered the ground with ice-fire. Draco had come to realize it was her trademark, a sort of hot-cold fire that burned like no other. It was so oddly mystifying that he was tempted to learn more about it—about her if he was being completely honest—but something within himself held up a cautionary hand to ward off any attempts.

_It wouldn't matter_, the hand told him cunningly. _It would only complicate things more than they already are_. _She'll never look at you with anything other than hatred and revulsion, so why try? You'll only end up hurting yourself. _

_Why bother at all?_

Ginny spun around and stomped over to her forgotten basket crossly. Nostrils flared and jaw clamped tight, she heaped accusation upon accusation on her own head. It felt good to release some of the pent-up emotions steaming inside her mind, even if it did make her feel like even more of an idiot.

_What was I _thinking_? Trying to _comfort_ him? When has he ever done a single act of kindness for me? Or anyone for that matter? I'm so stupid! Agh! _

Hands trembling in fury—partly at Malfoy, but mainly at herself—, the young woman cast her eyes down at the ground, refusing to look over at the still form kneeling mere feet away from her. There remained, however, a certain discomfort, a pulling at her mind that said, "There he is. Talk to him. Don't let him block you out."

It was fortunate—for him, that is—that she did not turn around, for if she had, she would have caught the look of sad regret that flashed across Draco's face. If she had seen it, she might have understood why he was doing it.

She would have seen the coward he truly was.

"Why do I always have to mess things up?" he sighed to himself, squeezing his eyes shut. They popped right back open, however, at the sound of a quietly firm, "I don't sympathize with you, Malfoy, not anymore. Now I just pity you."

And then it was his turn to look away.

* * *

_Just so ya'll know, this is day two of their detention (Tuesday). They've still got 4-5 more days left. I haven't decided whether or not to let them off detention the seventh day (the next Tuesday). _

_I'm experimenting with a new style of writing kind of, more an angsty light romance. What do yall think? Do yall like how I'm doing it or do you think it's too melodramatic? _


	22. Chapter 22

_Thanks for staying with the story! Special thanks to the following:_

**GreekPrincess143**_ for the follow_

**Eirlys1**_ for the favorite and follow_

**narcissamalfoyjwilliams11**_ for review. I'm so happy you enjoyed the last chapter, and I hope this one doesn't disappoint :)_

**hatebelow**_ for the lovely review as always! I'm glad you came back to fanfic and that you liked chapter 21!_

**Aldrean Treu Pe****ri** _for the follow and review. Thanks so much! I'm very glad that you appreciate the slow building of their relationship and development. I want it to seem natural, not rushed. _

**roni2010** _for the review! Hope you enjoy this one :)_

_Please forgive me if I forgot anyone. Know that your comments and follows are very much appreciated!_

* * *

Regret was a bitter adversary that made everything pop out in the most peculiar ways. The background to life—the little events no one paid any mind to—suddenly struck him as odd. It made him question what he knew to be set in stone.

He despised regret.

_...It's okay..._

The room was shrouded in a darkness that invaded the soul and left no room for questions, though he was overflowing with them. There was nowhere else to deposit his uncertainties save for in the dark itself, which rippled along beside his bed. He watched his questions float downstream and join with the ocean of guilt.

_...We were all hurt that day..._

Swish, swash went the illusionary waves as they pounded against the windows. In the past, the sound had been a soothing lullaby that washed his mind free of his worries. Now it was a reminder of his filthy hands.

_How? How had she known what to say? But more than that—why? Why had she said it? _

If he was being poetic, he would have said that the room smelled of fizzled out expectations and deflated hopes. But then he realized how idiotic he sounded and immediately banished the thought before it made him feel worse.

_...I don't sympathize with you..._

Guilt tasted bizarre and foreign on his tongue_—_a misshapen mixture of pride and disgust. It made his stomach churn to think of her, but he could not stop replaying the previous afternoon. The words were still too fresh in his mind for him to understand, so he preferred focusing on Ginny herself and not on what she had said.

Ginevra Weasley, Ginny to everyone who still wished to live.

What was there to say? She was tangy, a burst of flavor when he was accustomed to plain bread and water. An oxymoron surely, but there it was: his life summed up in two simple facts. His father: the bread that held them fast; and his mother: the water that washed their troubles away. But like all water, she, too, evaporated eventually.

_...I just pity you..._

A muffled curse rung out through the night and shattered the stillness of sleep. Draco grimaced as the accidental sound reverberated around the room and woke the other Slytherins up. They grumbled at their interrupted sleep.

"Shut it Malfoy. Some of us are trying to sleep you know," Payne huffed before yanking his bed curtains closed.

Zabini eased up into a sitting position. The whites of his eyes were streaked with red and he had to blink away the gooey film blurring his vision; now fully awake, his eyes darted around in search of the culprit. His gaze landed first on the blond in the bed next to him.

Curiosity curbed Zabini's reproachful tongue as Draco punched the embroidered pillow with unnecessary roughness. Too quiet for the other to hear, colorful oaths tumbled from the young man's lips. A smirk lit up Zabini's features at seeing the normally stolid Draco indulging his frustrations.

"Alright there Malfoy?" the dark-skinned Slytherin inquired archly.

_I wonder what's going on—it must be serious for him to be this agitated. Well, whatever it is, I'm sure I can have some fun with it. _

Draco paused, his body taut and his breath still. "I'm _fine_," he stressed curtly, turning his back to the other Slytherin. _Ignore him_, he instructed himself. _Don't let him get to you. He's doing it on purpose. Just think about something else. _

Ginny. He could think of Ginny. Warm, sincere laughter; eyes that looked at him without disgust or fear; a goodness that made her entirely unattainable—he decided to stop while he still could.

_...Malfoy..._

Why could he not get her voice out of his head? She was nothing to him, a mere nuisance. She was a distraction_—_so why did her face keep bobbing back to the surface of his thoughts? Indignation swelled his chest and his eyebrows drew together like storm clouds. It irked that she had so effortlessly reduced him to a nitwit.

Laced underneath the injured pride, however, was an unfamiliar thought: no one had ever looked at him the way she did, with eyes a warm, inviting brown. Laughter and understanding had swum inside of those eyes—until he rejected that foreign warmth. Such a look was not inconsequential. It was momentous for him, a stunning development. Whether it was a good development or not, he was still pondering it.

But he was still angry at her! While she might have made him feel weak at the knee, that did not lessen the affront. She had damaged his pride—he must not forget that.

Oh! How wonderful it was to be mad. After so long of repressing his thoughts and feelings, it was a blessed relief to finally let go of the restraints and live like a normal person again. However, many said such an act was now impossible, that he could never be normal.

They looked at him and saw a monster, as if everything_—_every life lost, ever home ripped apart_—_was his fault. No one ever thought of _his_ life, of _his_ family. They declared him too broken, too corrupt, too this or that to warrant a second chance; even Ginny had said as much. He would prove her wrong though.

He would prove them _all _wrong.

Zabini chuckled under his breath in the darkness, pulling the covers up closer to his shoulders to ward off the chill Draco was projecting.

It was now clear to him what the problem was. Once, in a rare moment of weakness, Zabini had let himself fall into the same trap Draco was now in. The feelings had spread like an infection, corrupting every part of him until only a minuscule portion of his Slytherin mindset remained. Only time had cured him of his disease, and even now he sometimes still felt repulsive twinges of emotion at the thought of those kindly, wondrous eyes.

_The poor fool. He should have stayed at home like the coward he is. At least then he would not have to suffer at the hands of such a terrible fate as this. Truly, I pity him for it. _

"I really, _really_ hate my life."

"Congratulations. You've made it past the denial stage and on to the appalled, depressed stage."

Stiffening in surprise, Draco glared at Zabini through the standing mirror. The latter inclined his head in greeting while the former studiously ignored him; Zabini appeared unfazed by the rebuff.

"You really should hurry. Breakfast is almost over," the dark-skinned Slytherin commented nonchalantly as he leaned against the doorway. "Besides, I think Pansy was looking for you. Seems she finally decided to forgive you and needs to talk to you as soon as possible, something about an upcoming Ball or other. You know how girls get over such trifle matters."

Maybe he was paranoid, but it seemed to him Zabini was trying to send a hidden message that Draco simply did not understand.

Deciding the safest course was to ignore the comment, Draco continued combing his hair to the side. Not one strand was allowed to be out-of-place. If he could not have order anywhere else, he would have it with his hair—or curse it off trying.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Draco haughtily replied in response to Zabini's first remark. As he waited for a response, he gave his reflection a nod of satisfaction.

There. Perfect.

His twin lifted its chin in studied disdain, nostrils flared and the tips of his blond hair swept back carefully. It was a practiced look, one born from observation and need. The façade projected sophistication and poise with a touch of polished authority. "I am in charge and you will do as I say," seeped from it and settled comfortably on Draco's shoulders like a familiar robe. Combined with the cold, calculating eyes of a Slytherin, it was virtually deadly.

However, Zabini was apparently one of the few who was immune to the infamous "Malfoy Stare Down."

"What do you want, Zabini?" Draco snapped. Flakes of ice were rapidly chipping off his mask. Much longer, and he would be as easy to read as parchment.

_He can't know—it's impossible. Last night was not enough for him to suspect, and I've given him no other clues. He's just trying to irk me on the off-chance I'll let something slip out. Well, newsflash Zabini, I know how to keep secrets from the best of them. _

"Don't worry, talking to yourself is normal for someone with your kind of condition," Zabini remarked, as if they were discussing nothing more arduous than the weather.

"My kind of condition?" the blond questioned, giving him another "Malfoy Look" meant to dissuade even the most diligent interrogator. Zabini nodded amicably, heedless of the intended warning. Impish delight lit up his serpentine eyes, showcasing the flecks of amber hidden within the irises.

_Ginny's eyes are softer_, Draco observed absently, picturing her proud chin, smirking gaze, and passion-colored hair. It was a pleasing combination, albeit one he had no business admiring. _They're open and bright, full of fiery confidence and that stubborn Weasley pride. Zabini's are shifting, labyrinthine almost. His... His are not to be trusted. He's a Slytherin, no doubt about it. I'll have to watch my step around him. _

"Yes. But don't worry, it's curable," Zabini continued, oblivious to the turn Draco's thoughts had taken. "All it takes is some work and dedication. Although it might be more difficult for you since you have detention with her."

Ahh, so _that_ was what this was all about.

Breathing out in relief, Draco shook his head contrarily. "I have everything under control, Zabini. I don't need any help handling a Weasley," he declared, pausing to straighten his robe collar.

Zabini chuckled at the self-assured expression that had settled on Draco's features.

"Whatever you say Malfoy. What-ever you say."

* * *

**Over a month! A month! Eeek! So sorry it took this long, but I've edited this chapter like crazy. I'm still not 100% satisfied, but overall it's much better than before, if a little different from the last chapter. **

**I can't wait to head into the deeper romance! It's going to remain a lighter romance, though, sort of felt but not really said out loud unless I change my mind later on. **

**By the way, for all writers and beta readers out there, I highly suggest William Zinsser's _On Writing Well_. While it might say it's the classic guide to writing nonfiction, much of it is invaluable for fiction and fanfiction alike. That book is part of the reason I took so long to post, since it made me see just how terrible my first few drafts were hehe. **


	23. Chapter 23

**Late again -_- My Beta Reader is gonna murder me for changing this so many times. **

**Anyways, thanks toooooo:**

Eirlys1** for review. Sorry it took so long :((**

Thomastshu** for the follow**

Vampiress35-94** for the favorite**

roni2010** for another lovely review :D**

Fred** for review. Yep, you've read this before and asked your first question. I answered it a few chapters back ;) Hopefully I did a good job explaining my thought process, if not, sorry again! As to Ginny's thoughts, maybe this will bring a little insight into what I'm trying to do. But I agree that she was very upset and unlikely to forgive and forget this fast. That's kind of what motivated this chapter's direction, so thanks for helping my writer's block! hehe **

Brielle Montegomery** for the follow, favorite, and review! Ohh my, thank you so much for the encourgement :)) And sorry for taking so long, I've been tweaking this one for ages, even after my Beta read over it lol. After reading what you said, I went back and saw how boring this was and tried to add a lil humor in every now and then. Just plain reflection is so dull doncha think? Don't freak out when you read the last two lines though! She hasn't fallen for him yet ;)**

**Ginny Weasley declares that she likes Draco in the next chapter! But maybe not in the way ya'll would hope hehe. **

**Hopefully the humor in here isn't over the top. **

* * *

Ginny gazed out the rain-splattered window as Professor Flitwick scurried past her. "Well done, Ms. Weasley, well done!" he puffed, fluttering his hands in a hurried wave. Murmuring a "thank you Professor," the Gryffindor let her classmates' voices drift away and her own thoughts take their place.

_What's wrong with me?_ she wondered. _Why do I feel as if I've betrayed my family and my friends by enjoying myself around Malfoy? I smiled with him, laughed with him... Merlin! I even tried to excuse his actions by telling him the War had hurt everyone. Nothing could ever excuse what he did—not even the bloody smile he gave me the other day. On the other hand, what a smile! I always thought his facial muscles had long since withered and that his face was frozen into a permanent smirk. _

A half sigh, half snort erupted from her lips and caused the students around her to glance up in concern. Once they saw the glassy shine in Ginny's eyes, they assumed she was thinking about Harry or her family again. They always assumed. No one ever truly understood what she was struggling with; they merely chalked it up to boy troubles or family problems. After all, losing a brother would make anyone "zone out" sometimes.

"_Poor Ginny_."

"_She's so strong, carrying on like this_."

"_How does she do it?_"

"_I would just _die_ if Harry Potter dumped me._"

They quietly turned back to their charm work, murmuring sympathies they thought she could not hear. Ginny shook her head wryly at their behavior. How silly her peers were, assuming Harry had been the one to "dump" her, when really she had been the one to end their relationship.

Harry...

_It doesn't hurt anymore to think about him_, she realized sadly. Though she knew she had made the right choice by breaking off her relationship with Harry, she still missed the security he had given her. His love had been concrete, a truth she had found comfort in. Who was she without him? Deep down she knew the answer—she merely loathed having to admit it. It reminded her too much of a sappy romance novel.

Besides, she hated telling the truth all the time. It made everything so messy and complicated. All too often she ended up getting the proverbial Bludger to the face for her trouble. Which was why most of the time, she simply did not bother. A well-placed white lie tied things up quite nicely.

_Seems I have more in common with Malfoy than I first thought_, she pondered, tapping her fingers on the desk absently.

Nevertheless, she had yet to find out a way to lie to herself—lie completely, that it. The "truth" was she was Ginny (not Ginevra. _Never_ Ginevra. Honestly, what was her mother thinking, giving her poor daughter such horrid name?). If she wanted to admit the _entire_ truth (which she very well did not), she would say that she also happened to be the girl who dared reach out to the enemy when no one else would.

_How very cliché_, Ginny thought with a snort. _I'm a poet and I didn't even know it. Where were these skills during my first year? Could have used 'em writing that bloody card for Harry. Maybe then Malfoy wouldn't have made me the laughing-stock of Hogwarts, the prat. _

Against her wishes, her thoughts latched back onto the Slytherin. Why could the confidence she felt about her feelings for Harry not transfer to her feelings about Draco? Why was she so confused? It should have been easy to recognize where she stood. Everyone else knew how they felt about him. He was Draco Malfoy: Death Eater and Voldemort supporter. He was, simply put, evil.

So why did it feel so _wrong_? If it was true, then surely she would have felt some sort of satisfaction at being proved right. Ever since she first saw him on the Hogwarts Express her first year, she knew he was not a good person. But did that really make him a bad person?

Maybe her world was not as black and white as she had thought it was.

_Oh Fred! What would you have done? _she wondered, her wit falling to the wayside as doubt crept over her._ Probably thrown a Bludger in his face, that's what—maybe even stuffed itchy powder down his trousers while you were at it. You certainly wouldn't have tried to comfort him. So why did I? _

She suddenly imagined her brothers looking down at her quizzically with eyebrows raised, arms folded over their chests and legs spread apart. It was a situation she had, unfortunately, found herself in far too often.

_I still say it was Ron's fault_, she mused sourly, remembering the last time they ambushed her. It had not been pleasant, but she had still walked away the victor of quips. _But enough thinking about past problems, I need help with my current one! _It was easy for her to picture her brothers crowding around her again, so often had they done it before.

"Hey Gin-bug, what's wrong?" Charlie would ask her, and she would immediately pour out her worries to them. Her brothers were always there for her, always ready to help—even the dolt, Ron.

Bill with his scarred face and kind, laughing eyes... Charlie, playfully nudging her with his elbow and whispering that he would try to sneak her some butterbeer later... Percy with his back straight, a smile hidden within his neutral features... Fred and George, gleefully winking at her behind Percy's back... And dear, silly Ron, always saying the wrongs things for the right reasons.

She could count on them. Could she honestly say the same about Draco?

More importantly, did it matter anymore? If not, when had it _stopped_ mattering? Was there a definite point in their shared history she could blame for being the one that made her look past his faults? Maybe it had been a combination of events that made her see the real Draco, the Draco his family's name and history had suppressed.

Or maybe she had finally gone loony. Did crazy people know they were crazy? She would have to ask Luna about that sometime later. But no, she could not. Normal people did not go around asking if crazy people knew they were crazy. Someone might get suspicious... _Too risky_, she finally decided

Ginny quickly shook her head, burying the disconcerting thoughts. _Back to the matter at hand_: _is Draco Malfoy worth a second chance? And if so, am I ready to give him one? _

The fact was she could not discount the past few days. They had happened, whether she wished to acknowledge them or not. They had changed the way she saw him, and now she was afraid she could never go back to hating him as vehemently as before.

Something in his eyes last night had touched her and given her the courage to reach out. It had been both fragile and hardened, that look, something forged through persecution she would never experience. For a moment she had thought he would accept her offer—of what, even she did not fully know—but then he pulled away. He always pulled away.

After mulling it over in bed, however, she had come to realize why he did it. Mere weeks ago it would have seemed preposterous; he was a Malfoy after all. Nevertheless, the truth was:

Draco Malfoy was afraid.

Though he might deny it, inside he was still a little boy yearning for praise. However, like any child, more than anything he feared he would never be good enough—that he would never be recognized as truly _worth it_.

So was it her duty to pat him on the back and tell him he was being a good boy? After everything he had done to her and her family? He was the reason Bill had scars slashing his face and had to eat all his meat raw. George lost his ear and Fred lost his life thanks to Death Eaters like Draco. How could she forgive him for the evil he had done?

However, there was also a vulnerability in him that made it hard for her to look him in the eye and say, "I hate you." Though his crimes were great, so was his regret—and he knew it. Sometimes Ginny did not know whether he despised himself more for his ill-willed deeds or for his own guilt-laden mind.

Last night, when she said she pitied him, she had meant it. Draco was at war with the world. Though the battles were shorter, they took a greater toll on him than before. This time there was no one for him to turn to. He was truly a one man army against an innumerable horde. And she pitied him for it. How could one person win a war by himself?

Despite her young age, Ginny knew all about war, had seen the effects it had on people. Sometimes the change was good; more often it was not. George did not smile and joke like he used to; conversely, Neville was now sure of his place in the world. Two different people, two different outcomes.

Which one would Draco undergo? The good change? Or the bad change?

_That was why I said what I did_, Ginny realized. _I didn't want him to choose the wrong one. Voldemort destroyed enough lives. I won't let him destroy another—even if that life is Draco Malfoy's._

"_Look, she's smiling now. She's so brave_..."

And she was brave—brave enough to try reaching out again. It would take even more guts, not to mention lunacy, than the first time. Most likely her efforts would go to waste as he shrugged the words off like lint on his robe. No matter what, though, she was determined to crack that frosty barrier he projected. Ginny Weasley did not give up without a fight.

That evening, she told Draco the three words she never imagined she would one day say to him.

"I like you."

_And the worst part? _she mused in resignation. _I'm telling the truth again._

* * *

**Before ya'll gasp and exclaim that it's too soon, let me say that not everything is as it seems. (evil grin) Read top for more explanation!**


	24. Chapter 24

**Thanks tooooooo:**

May **for the review. Yay! I'm so glad :))**

Eirlys1 **for the review. So sorry for taking so long before! I should have the next one up in week to two weeks :/**

Teaganism** for the favorite! **

Guest** for the review. Sometimes churn means to stir up or move vigorously. That's the definition I used :)**

ladyerudite **for the favorite! **

MEworcester **for the follow. **

**Sorry if I forgot anyone! Ya'll are much appreciated! :)**

* * *

_Well, this is unexpected_, she thought numbly.

"Hey Ginny, do you think—," began Hermione, her voice dying off when she saw the letter on the table. "Oh."

Nudging Ron pointedly, the Gryffindor raised her eyebrows. "What is _that_?" she hissed. However, she already knew the answer. A mixture of pity and anger at him filled her. He had already lost so much in his life, and he was merely afraid of losing Ginny as well. Nevertheless, his fears did not justify shoving his heart down her throat. If she loved him, then she loved him—if she did not, then she did not. Nothing he told her or did for her would change that.

Ron mumbled something incoherent and refused to meet Hermione's eyes. Though he had tried telling Harry that Ginny was not ready, the young man had not listened.

_I love her Ron! I'm __not__ going to lose her again. She doesn't have to answer me right now. I just want her to know how I feel, _Harry had written back.

In his next letter, Ron tried a different approach._ You're going to lose her if you push too hard. Besides, what do you think Hermione's going to do to you? Or __me__? She's like a mother hen with Ginny. Just wait a little longer. For me? I don't want to be within a mile of them when she gets it. You know she loves you. She's just confused right now. Ginny will be running back into your arms in no time. Just let her figure some things out first. _

And so Harry had waited. And waited. And waited some more. Soon, however, he had become impatient with Ron's pacification. The letters detailing how Ginny was doing were not enough anymore. He wanted, _needed_, to talk to her face to face. If guilt gnawed at his stomach, he ignored it; he was not pushing her. He was giving her a choice.

Hermione scowled. "Well, it better not be from whom I think it's from. Does he not know the meaning of the word patience? It's too soon for both of them."

Ginny stared sightlessly across the hall, her friends' conversation blowing through her ears unheard. A growing disbelief ached in her chest. Oh, why did he have to write her _now_? There was some sort of sixth sense guiding him, she deduced. How else would his letter get to her on the exact day she had planned to break Draco's shell?

The sudden weight of a hand on her shoulder jerked Ginny from her musings. Hermione smiled with understanding few could claim.

"It's okay, you know. You don't have to open it right now. In fact, why don't you wait until tonight?"

Even before she finished, Ginny began shaking her head. "No, I can't wait. After detention with Malfoy..." Her voice trailed off. Taking a steadying breath, she continued, "I don't know if I'll have the courage after dealing with him. No, it's better to do it now, with you here with me."

Sympathy welled up in Hermione at the strain in Ginny's voice. The girl had already been through so much. Cursing Harry for his stubbornness, Hermione watched as the redhead picked up the envelope. The ominous weight inside caused her to pause. Hermione seized the moment to try again.

Though Harry was her closest friend, sometimes he could be so thick-headed that she was of half a mind to place an Imperius spell on him. At least that way he would not act like an overeager puppy. Love did strange things to a person's mind.

"Are you sure about this? I can always come to the common room. Ginny, I'm telling you. This is meant to be read in private."

Across the hall, Draco absently twirled his spoon in his goblet of pumpkin juice. Laughter and conversation danced around him but he felt no desire to join in. His stomach was in knots thinking about the upcoming detention. What would he say to her? What would _she_ say? And sweet Merlin, was he actually _looking forward_ to it?

The spoon slipped from his grip. Unnoticed by him, it sloshed into his juice and sprayed his arm with droplets of pumpkin juice. As he rested his head in his hands, Draco forced himself to take deep breaths. He was desperate. Contrary to what he had told Zabini, he was in no way confident about handling Ginny Weasley. Frankly, he was dubious whether there _was_ a way to handle her.

As if drawn there, his eyes alighted on the redhead. Something was wrong—he could sense it. The fearful expression on Granger's face, the way she was frantically whispering to the youngest Weasley. His curiosity now ensnared, Draco leaned forward for a better view.

"Watch it Malfoy!" Zabini snapped as his goblet tipped over. Juice ran everywhere, drenching both Draco and Zabini's trousers. "Salazar," Draco swore. Sighing, he began wiping off what he could. It took all his willpower to ignore Zabini's mutters about love-struck fools.

"Today is just not my day," huffed Draco.

As Ginny bit her lip, she again vacillated between opening the letter then and waiting until later. It was clear which option Hermione supported. She also seemed to know what the letter said, so perhaps it would be better to heed her advice.

"All right, I'll wait," relented Ginny. Hermione's audible exhale brought a smile to her lips. "But if you don't mind, can I spend the night in the Head's dorm with you? I don't want to chance anyone coming down when I read it. Besides, we haven't had a sleepover in a while."

Quickly Hermione nodded her consent. "Of course! Anthony will understand. I think he's been missing his friends anyway, so he can sleep in the Ravenclaw dorm tonight. Does ten o'clock sound good to you? Tell you what, I'll even sneak us some ice cream from the kitchens," she added with a wink.

The offer caught Ginny by surprise, as the Head Girl made few allowances for rule breaking. It seemed Harry's letter was more serious than she had first suspected. The Gryffindor abruptly realized how much she owed Hermione. She had always been there for her, even when Ginny was a first year sniffling over unrequited love.

Though she was not normally a hugging kind of girl, Ginny decided the occasion called for it. She threw her arms around Hermione and squeezed her tightly. To her horror, a tear or two distorted her vision. Hastily blinking them away least someone see, the Gryffindor mumbled something incoherent into Hermione's hair.

"What was that?" the older girl inquired. She knew it embarrassed Ginny for anyone to perceive her as a weak, sniveling mess. Therefore, Hermione kept her voice low. There were enough curious eyes on them as it was.

"I said you're the best sister ever. Want to trade with Ron? I'm sure Mum wouldn't mind."

Hermione grinned and returned the embrace. "I love you too, Ginny." She met Ron's eyes over the girl's shoulder and mouthed, "Girls' night. I'll fill you in later." Though he might act like a git sometimes, Ron cared about his family with all his heart. If Ginny needed him, he would be there. Until then, he was content to let the girls comfort each other in a way only they could.

* * *

**So, yeah, detention will be in next chapter. So sorry! I knew I said she would tell him she liked him in this one, but I needed to add in Harry ;) She WILL tell him in 25 though. It shouldn't be too long, a week to two weeks this time. No more month between updates hopefully! :)**


	25. Chapter 25

**Thanks to:**

Janak77** for the follow!**

FreeSpiritSeeker** for the follow, favorite, and review! :))**

roxyginny** for the follows and favorites! Yay! Thanks :)))**

alissa-2012** for the follow!**

yarrfox** for the follow!**

kita anne** for the follow!**

redhead01** for the follow! **

**Thank you everyone for sticking with me! Ya'll are amazing, and I hope I don't disappoint! **

* * *

For detention, Professor Sprout handed Draco and Ginny off to Trelawney, who delegated them to cleaning her crystal ball collection for two and a half hours. The first sixty minutes they grumbled about the "batty old fruitcake," as Draco dubbed her. However, their protests soon died down as the mind-numbing work took effect.

Every few minutes Draco's eyes would dart over to Ginny. The urge to speak welled up inside him, and he debated on whether to indulge it or not. If he simply asked her what happened at lunch, she would either ignore him or hex him, depending on her current mood. Draco had been on the receiving end of her Bat-Boogey Hexes often enough that he had no wish to get hit by another one.

His curiosity battled his self-preservation. Finally, he decided to draw the answer out of her without ever having to ask the question in the first place. To avoid suspicion, he began with a complaint.

"Well, this is utterly mind-numbing," Draco drawled, inspecting the shelves of crystal balls left to clean.

"Yep."

"Somebody should really curse Trelawney's head off."

"Hmm."

"My hands will be permanently wrinkly now."

"That's nice," Ginny murmured.

"She could have at least let us use magic."

"Uh huh."

"Are you even listening to me?"

"Of course."

Draco exhaled in frustration. _Well, if I can't get her attention with small-talk, I guess I'll have to resort to more drastic measures._

On the other side of Trelawney's classroom, Ginny scrubbed the already clean crystal ball in her hands. When she saw her drawn reflection, she scowled. All afternoon her thoughts had been on the envelope stuffed in her pocket, and even her professors had commented on her absentmindedness. It seemed nothing could distract her from the anxiety creeping over her. She both longed to and dreaded opening the letter. Ever since she came back to Hogwarts, her world had been slowly returning to normal—or what she now thought of as normal. Depending on what it said, this letter could change everything.

Where was her courage, her perseverance? Had Harry not said that her feisty spirit was what had initially attracted him to her? How did one boy hold so much power over her? Was she so dependent on him that without him she was nothing?

"I never thought I'd see the day where Ginevra Weasley was brought to her knees by a boy."

Startled, Ginny jerked up and looked across the room to meet Draco's contemptuous gaze. "Excuse me?" she gasped. It was scary how easily he read her mind.

"You heard me. I know all about Potter's letter, thanks to the Hogwarts grapevine. It's all over the school, big stuff really. So I'm curious. What did it say? Did he promise you the moon and stars if you would come back to him? Did he sweep you off your feet with romantic poetry? Did he propose to you? That sounds more like him. He's too much of a coward to ask you to your face," Draco sneered. He stared at her unblinkingly, daring her to contradict him. The hatred burning in his voice cleared her head and loosened her tongue.

"What is with you? You go from laughing with me to laughing at me, from reaching out to me to pushing me away. What do you want from me?" she snarled, setting the crystal ball aside. It was best if she did not have anything breakable in her hands while talking to him. She might be tempted to throw it at him.

Draco raised an eyebrow in that infuriating way of his. "Finally, you show some backbone! I was getting worried. Now let's get this straight, Weasley. I have no interest in seeing Potter win you too. You're good enough without him. In fact, you're better." His voice dropped to a puzzled whisper, as if his words confused even him. "Your eyes shine more when you're not thinking about him."

A frown twisted his mouth as he continued. "I won't pretend to be one of your girl friends whose shoulders you can cry on, but I hate Potter enough that I'll listen to your pitiful sob story if you need to talk. Right now, you're the only person who actually looks me in the eye without fear or disgust. I will _not_ let Potter take that away from me."

Undisguised emotion rang in his voice, and Ginny found herself unable to look away. The jealousy and bitterness he had for Harry was suddenly thrown into new light. Was it just anger that made him possessive of her, or did he actually _care_? He never would have before. There had been signs, to be sure, that he had changed. Each time she attempted to drawn him out, however, he figuratively slapped her in the face.

Sensing her confusion and wariness, the Slytherin sighed. What had he expected? After everything he had done, he should have known she would not take him at his word. This would be harder than he first thought.

"Look, I'm only going to say this once, so listen up Weasley."

"It's Ginny, actually."

He paused. The cautious awareness in her eyes threw his off guard, and he scrambled for a foothold in his thoughts. Calling her by her first name was a big leap, one he was not sure he was ready to make. It was easy for others to call her that. With him, though, it was different. First names were reserved for friends only, people he knew and trusted. Did he trust her? Was he ready to grasp her offered hand of friendship?

Breathing deeply through flared nostrils, Draco blinked his eyes to clear them of any rosy tint.

"Ginny," he began, savoring the way it rolled off his tongue. Secretly, he preferred Ginevra. It seemed more familiar, more intimate in a safe way. Nobody else called her Ginevra.

"Ginny, I'll be frank with you. I don't have many friends. In fact, Zabini is the closest I've ever come to one. And right now, he and I aren't on the best of terms. If you're serious about this, about being my friend, I want you to say so. I'm warning you now, though. I don't have much experience being nice. You'll have to be patient with me, and I with you."

The solemnity in his voice brought a smile to Ginny's lips. This was the most somber friendship offering she had ever experienced. He noticed the quirk and shook his head. "I'm not kidding," he stressed, exasperation thinning his voice.

Tossing her cleaning rag aside, Ginny stood up and crossed the room. When she reached him, she stuck out her hand. He stared at it dubiously, wondering what she had in mind.

"It's called a handshake, Draco. Friends shake hands, right?" she teased lightly. The understanding glow in her features eased his worries. Curving his lips into a half smile, half smirk, Draco gently took her hand and shook it. If he held on longer than necessary, she did not comment.

Draco frowned as an idea suddenly occurred to him. What would it hurt? Just this morning, he had resolved to prove the world wrong and show that he could act civil. This would be an excellent opportunity for an experiment. If she took him up on the offer, then he would be a step closer to his goal. Sacrifices—which this most definitely counted as—had to be made. Moreover, a Slytherin was nothing if not cunning enough to turn those sacrifices into advantages once more. That decision made, he was left with the choice of how to put his offer on the table. After mulling it over in his head, he finally settled on an approach.

"Open your ears, Ginny. And do be sure not to drop dead from shock. I'd rather not have to go through McGonagall's interrogation again."

The Gryffindor inclined her head, indicating for him to continue.

"When I was little Mother would stay up late telling me about her day. She talked for hours, and while much of it was about tedious stuff like how the house-elves ruined her new robe by washing it with Father's shirt, I sat there and nodded in all the right places. Sometimes I even talked back; mind you, it was my mother. Now, I'm not offering to be some kind of bloody diary or anything of that sort, but...Well, Mother always said I was a good listener. There, I said it, now talk or stop moping. It's annoying."

"Oh? _I'm_ annoying?" Ginny teased. He gave her a long-suffering look, miffed that she was not taking his "groundbreaking offer" seriously enough. Noticing his expression, she sighed and leaned back against the wall. "Fine. I'm talking, happy? Ugh, you're like my mother," she grumbled in mock irritation, peeking at him out of the corner of her eye.

Draco allowed himself a grimace. _Somehow, I don't think that was a compliment._

"Now, what's this about Potter's letter?" he asked after a few seconds. It was clear to him that they would be getting no more cleaning done tonight.

Apparently reaching the same conclusion, Ginny slumped down onto the floor beside him. "Well, I haven't actually read it yet," she confessed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Hermione told me to wait, and so I am. I'm going to read it with her tonight. We're having a sleepover," she added when she saw his confused expression.

"Hmm, I never took you for needing anyone to hold your hand. Pity. I guess I'm not needed after all then."

Chuckling at his dramatic huff, she punched him on the arm. "Shut it, Ferret. I can take you even without a wand. Remember, I grew up with six older brothers."

Draco smirked over at her and tried to ignore the painful twinge in his arm. Salazar, she was strong! Where did she hide all those muscles? "I can't image how you survived. It must have been torture. I'd have hexed their heads off as soon as I was old enough to talk," he replied.

They shared a laugh before settling into comfortable silence. Pursing her lips, Ginny pondered how to put her thoughts into words. After struggling for a few more moments, she finally decided to just "spit it out" as Ron would say.

"I like you."

Before he could misconstrue her words, Ginny hastily explained herself. "This new you, I mean. You're different than before, more..."

Seeing her struggle for the right adjective, Draco offered, "Brilliant? Supportive? Helpful? Cunning? Ambitious? Talented? Handsome? Please, tell me. I'm getting all warm and fuzzy inside already."

Laughter sprang from Ginny's mouth as she waved off his words. "Enough! I was going to say that you're more... More open. Yes, that's it." She nodded in satisfaction, pleased with the word.

He incredulously inquired, "Open? Really? _That's_ your big compliment? And there go the fuzzy feelings."

"Open-minded," she corrected, holding back a smile. "You don't let others dictate your reactions and thoughts like before. Instead, you're beginning to think for yourself. Just look at us! Before, you would have never sat down and talked to me like this. It shows how much you've changed," she finished, searching his eyes for something.

"Well, I hate to break it to you," he replied, attempting to redirect her attention through humor, "but I'm still going to take a nice, long shower tonight and wash off all your Weasley germs. I'm not taking any chances. Who knows, I might wake up with red hair, freckles, and too-small clothes if I don't."

Before Ginny could respond, Professor Trelawney burst in the door and announced that it was time for them to go. "The position of Mars suggests that staying any longer will result in grave consequences for us all," she rasped. After peering around the room suspiciously, Trelawney turned and shuffled back out.

With nothing else left to say, Draco decided to cut his losses and get out while he was still ahead. A polite, "Weasley," was his only goodbye. After debating internally, he added a nod. Why not? He was feeling generous tonight.

When she raised her eyebrows, he hurriedly corrected himself. There went his amusement, taking his sense of superiority along with it. She had a talent for stripping him of his dignity. Oddly, that did not bother as much as it should.

"Ginny. _Whatever_."

For some reason, Ginny felt better than she had before. What was it about talking with Draco that relaxed her so much? It almost felt like she was fooling around with one of her brothers again—an odd comparison, to be sure. Inclining her head, Ginny similarly bid him goodnight.

"Draco."

Seeing his smirk on her face irked him. When had she become so bloody _good_ at it? Even he felt irritation kindle in his chest at the sight of it, though that might have more to do with her than the smirk.

Ginny snickered under her breath when he made a show of holding the door open for her. "Ladies first," Draco murmured with an air of aristocracy. The Gryffindor swept past him, deliberately bumping into his arm. "Shut it, Ferret. I can beat you up without a wand."

With a chuckle, he replied, "I'm taller and have a longer reach, so I'm not too worried. And quite hitting me! My arm already aches from cleaning all those bloody crystal balls. I don't need you damaging me any more than I already am."

"Baby," she muttered under her breath.

"Brute," he retorted.

"Git."

"Prat."

"Pretty Boy," she hissed without thinking.

"Oh, so you think I'm good-looking?" he asked with a smirk, leaning forward.

"Sod off Malfoy."

"My, my. Aren't we touchy. So you _do_ think I'm handsome."

"Good _night _Draco," the Gryffindor stressed through gritted teeth.

"Don't run away now, Ginny. It's just getting interesting."

"I _said_, 'goodnight Draco.'"

"Just admit it. You think me handsome."

"I hate you."

"You really have a way with words. Those warm, fuzzy feelings are back."

"That's called gas. Now goodnight."

"Malfoys don't get gas. It's our pure blood, you know."

"I'm sure. Now move out of my way!"

"Don't be like that."

"Malfoy, I'm warning you!"

"Of what? Are you going to kiss me?"

"What? No!"

"Just wondering, because you're awfully close," he whispered, smirking as his breath fanned her blushing cheeks.

"Then step back."

"I don't think I will."

"You're dead to me."

"Ginny! You wound me, you really do."

"Agh!" she screeched, tugging at the roots of her hair. No. She was _not_ going to pull out her wand and hex him. Seeing how easily he got under her skin would only give him more satisfaction. After all, she had grown up with six older brothers, so surely she knew how to handle one measly Slytherin. Composure now secured, she tilted her chin up and continued walking.

"You should really go to bed, Ginevra. You don't look so good."

* * *

**Eh, I still think this one lacks something. Anyways, a big, big, big, big, big, big shout out to my beta reader, **marinka**. Gigantic cookie! Without your help, this entire story would be the pits ;)**

**So, how was it? Too dramatic? Too OOC? I love hearing what ya'll think :)) **


	26. Chapter 26

**Thanks to:**

Janak77** for the favorite!**

FreeSpiritSeeker** for the review. Sorry it took so long! :) **

Snowbeam12** for the follow and favorite!**

TeddyMellark** for the follow.**

Minka55** for the favorite!**

kemmerleemae** for the follows and favorites!**

Onetimelove71** for the follow, favorite, and review! I'm so glad you like it :))**

toulouse88** for favorite, follow, and amazing review! I have to admit, I actually squealed when I read your review. I can't believe you like it so much! Thanks for the details and telling me how I'm doing :)) I hope this chapter lives up to expectations! **

Michaela**, (toulouse88 or sister?) Wow, thank you so much! I'm sorry it took so long, but hopefully this will make up for it! And welcome to fanfiction ;) It does sort of rope you in lol. **

NaomiJane1993** for the review. Yay! Glad you liked it!**

Waterlilly87** for the favorite!**

eduarrdab** for the follow!**

Ali** for the review. Thanks so much! :)) **

**And as always, **Marinka** for beta'ing!**

**Sorry if I forgot anyone or misspelled names or the like. Ya'll are much appreciated! :)**

* * *

"Are you ready?"

"Yes. I mean no. I mean... I don't know!"

As she frowned down at the unopened letter on the floor, Ginny fancied that it was snickering at her indecision. The sound reminded her of Draco and she could not help but smile. In such a short time, he had changed so much from the embittered, craven young man nursing a scarred ego that he had been.

Memories of their latest detention flashed through her mind. She had not known he could laugh like that, so warm and sincere. Even a quiet snicker had lightened the shadows in his eyes and smoothed the seemingly permanent frown on his forehead. The skin on her hand remembered how his fingers had clasped hers. Heat seared up her arm and into her cheeks unexpectedly.

Why did it affect her so much? He had merely shaken her hand. However much it was a breakthrough, a handshake did not justify the smiles she had fought to suppress. While progress has been made on both sides, she had to remember her base motive. The only reason she was becoming friends with him was to prove that he was not evil, merely a boy who had made bad choices. Everyone deserved a second chance, after all. Beyond that, she had no illusions that they would have become friends on their own.

"Ginny?" Hermione interrupted gently, reaching out a hand to touch her shoulder. Jerking at the unexpected touch, Ginny remembered the purpose of this sleepover—opening Harry's letter.

"Sorry. I was thinking." _About Draco again._ Apparently, it was her new hobby.

Hermione nodding in understanding. "It's alright, you know. I'm here for you. In fact, how about I open the letter and read it aloud? I can stop at any time." Although her intentions were good, her suggestion did not sit well with Ginny.

Fear had always been a problem for her. Growing up with six older brothers, however, had quickly taught her how to conquer that fear. One letter from a friend, former flame or not, was not going to destroy the confidence she had so painstakingly constructed.

"Thank you, but I'm fine," Ginny assured her. To prove it, she snatched up the envelope and ripped it open. When she felt the weight in the bottom, however, she paused. What if it was The Box? Her heart hammered in her chest. It was too soon, she was too young. What would she say to him? How could she face him after this? What did he expect from her?

Sensing her growing apprehension, Hermione brushed a strand of hair out of Ginny's face. The gesture was so familiar that it took Ginny back to the days when her mother would brush her long locks and sing her to sleep. Oh, how she wished to be young again, free from all these troubling thoughts! Before she met Harry and came to Hogwarts, her greatest fear had been that her brothers would catch her sneaking out to play on their beloved brooms. In many ways, Harry had irrevocably turned her familiar life upside down. She was unsure whether she loved him or hated him for it. It was a troubling mixture of both, she decided.

After an encouraging nod from Hermione, she slid the folded parchment out. There was no use putting it off any longer. If she refused to open it now, it would haunt her thoughts until she finally did. However, she drew the line at the weight in the bottom of the envelope. She could stand to wait to look at that later, at least until she saw what Harry had wrote about it.

Before she began reading, Hermione nodded towards the two half-eaten bowls of ice cream on the couch. Though it had taken her nearly ten minutes to explain to the house-elves what she wanted, twenty minutes for them to make it, and another ten minutes to get it back to the dormitory, the rich treat was certainly worth it.

"More ice cream?"

"Well, I _would_ hate to waste it," Ginny replied teasingly.

Encouraged by the creamy deliciousness sliding down her throat two minutes later, she unfolded the parchment. All the moisture in her mouth evaporated as her eyes leaped from line to line. Now she understood why Hermione had gone to so much trouble to get the ice cream. She plopped another spoonful on her tongue.

_Dear Ginny,_

_I know you probably don't want to be reading this right now, and I understand. I can't wait any longer, though. I miss you, Ginny. I miss you __so much__. Ron and Hermione have been keeping me updated about what's going on, but that's not enough. I want to talk to you. __Soon__. I know the Quidditch tryouts are this weekend, but maybe you could stop by Hogsmead Saturday morning. I'll be waiting at the Three Broomsticks. _

_P.S. Don't worry about the box. It's not what you think. I'm not __that__ thickheaded! _

_Love, _

_Harry _

For a long time, she just sat there, not knowing what to feel. There was a numb ache in her chest that throbbed every time she thought of him. Every time she tried _not_ thinking of him, her mind would conjure up memories of them together. Repeatedly she replayed them, searching for the answer to her unspoken question:

_What now?_

Where did they stand? Where did they go from here? Though it pained her to admit, she knew she could never love him the way him wanted her to. Maybe that was okay, though. Maybe she could find a new way to love him, a better way; she would have to if she wanted any peace from her mother. Her ears were already ringing from the anticipated Howler.

Looking up at Hermione, Ginny released a pent-up breath. "I don't know what to think," she admitted. "I've always cared about Harry, and I always will. Merlin, I don't want to hurt him! Not after everything he's been through. And somehow, I feel I owe it to him, you know? After all, I was in love with him for nearly six years! At least, I thought I was. I don't think I really know what love is anymore. But hey, what teenager does?"

She shrugged with a feigned flippancy.

"Still, it was apparent to everyone that I had a major crush on him from the start. It took him a while, but he fell in love with me at last. I was ecstatic in the beginning. I mean, I finally had my happily ever after. Who wouldn't be pleased? In fact, my first thought was, '_It's about bloody time!_' Then the War changed everything. I know why you guys left, and I'm okay with you leaving. Really, I am, so don't give me that pitying look," she interjected. "I get enough of that at home from Mum."

"What I'm trying to say is that I wish he hadn't left me behind. I realized then that what I felt was not true love, not like what Mum has for Dad and you have for Ron. I care about him so much—just not like that. What we had was good; it was passionate and comforting. But I don't want just passion! Real love is based on understanding and trust. Harry doesn't trust me like he trusts you and Ron. Frankly, I'm not sure he ever will."

By now, she was talking more to herself than to Hermione. The older girl listened without saying a word, sensing that this was something Ginny had been needing to say for some time now. All she could do was grab Ginny's hands in her own and squeeze.

"I waited on Harry for so long. When he admitted that he loved me, I thought everything else would fall into place and we'd live happily ever after. Then as time went on, I realized that not everything was coming together the way it should; now, I know that it doesn't have to. My life is an incomplete puzzle. And I'm okay with that."

With each sentence, the fire in her eyes flared brighter until it resembled her old confidence and spirit. Ginny straightened her back and lifted her chin as new purpose filled her. Though the words were painful, they were also necessary. It was like breaking a wrongly healed bone to reset it. It had to be done for her to be whole again.

"I realize now that I don't have to plan my life out according to anyone's love, not even Harry's. I am _me_, Hermione. I'm not Harry, so why should I live my life the way he wants me to? From now on, I'll be making the decisions based on how _I_ feel, not how anyone else thinks I should feel. I'm ready to move on and find out who the real me is—the me who isn't Harry's girlfriend. Honestly, I'm so sick of hearing people describe me as Harry's girl or the tag-along Weasley. I'm more than that. This is my chance to prove it to everyone."

Smiling through her tears, Ginny threw her arms around her fellow Gryffindor. "Thanks for listening to me. I know you're probably dying to say something, so go ahead."

Hermione laughed and returned the hug full-force. "All I have to say is...good for you! I always knew you had it in you." Sobering, she pulled back to met Ginny's eyes. "But Gin, maybe you should go and see Harry. No, don't say anything yet, I know what you're thinking. Just talk to him and tell him how you feel. Trust me, it'll do both of you good. Right now, this uneasy line you two have drawn is only causing both of you pain. Talking it out will give you closure and help you move on. Just think about it, okay?"

Unfortunately, Hermione's suggestion was logical and Ginny found no reason to disagree.

"_Fine_. I'll go see him. But," she cautioned, wagging her finger at Hermione, "no promises!" They shared a smile before silently agreeing to change the subject.

"So, how are things with you and Ronniekins?" Ginny teased, settling down on her pile of blankets and pillows. It was rare that she became giggly—she abhorred it, actually—, but she decided to indulge her girlishness tonight. After such a heavy topic, they both deserved some lighthearted fun as long as it did not leave the Heads' dormitories. If Ron ever found out the details of this sleepover, she would never live it down.

Hermione shot her a wry look. "Things are just fine, I'll have you know. In fact—" Scooting forward, she whispered, "I think he's going to ask me soon!"

Normally, Peeves was an outgoing poltergeist who enjoyed butting his ghostly head into other people's business. He believed that the world lacked a certain spark of fun and had long since dedicated his life to correcting the issue. While some might find his methods tiresome and downright vexing, he preferred labeling them as "poorly appreciated agents for the people's amusement."

However, even the great and mighty Peeves had his limits. Which was why, when he heard the ear-shattering shrieks emitting from the Head's dormitories as he was floating by, he merely shuddered and continued on his way. The last time he had disturbed Hermione Granger, he had barely escaped unscathed. Intangible he might be, but an entire library of books flying at him still gave him the willies.

_Oh, she would have made a top-notch accomplice_, Peeves mused wistfully as he switched a snoozing portrait with another one down the hall. The first years will be in for a treat come morning, when they realize that all the familiar markers they had learned to navigate by have been "misplaced."

Now if only he could find McGonagall's knickers...

* * *

_I love Peeves hehe. Anyways, was Ginny's reaction to the letter believable? And what do ya'll think is in the box? ;) Next update is week-two weeks again. Sorry this one was late :/ Reviews did motivate me, though heh. _

_I can't wait for chapter 28. It involves Pansy! Might be different from what ya'll are expecting, though. I've recently gained a new perspective on her. _

_As of now, my chapter layout shows this story reaching around 40 chapters or so. Seems like I've been working on this forever lol. _


	27. Chapter 27

**Thanks to:**

Brielle Montegomery** for the lovely review! I love it when a story changes my mind about something, so when I read that you thought this might be making you more Draco-Ginny inclined, I was ecstatic! And I've always figured Ginny wouldn't like Harry going off and leaving her like he did, even if it was for her own safety. She's way too independent to enjoy someone trying to baby her. Just look how she acted during the Battle for Hogwarts! (And now I have to remind myself that she's just a fictional character heheh.)**

FreeSpiritSeeker **for the review as well. Sorry for the delay...again... :/**

orangepigeon19** for the follow.**

CamoPrincess0913** for the follow.**

Kinsie** for the follow.**

Rosalind** for the review. First of all, thank you for taking the time to point that out to me. I'm still new to writing, and I (obviously) make a lot of mistakes. I try to research as much as I can, but sometimes I tend to write more of the way I see things that what is the realistic version, if that makes any sense. Actually, you helped me gain a new angle on Draco's character and inspired a few parts of the rest of the story. Again, thank you for pointing that out to me :) (p.s. I realized that about Ron after I read your review. I could have kicked myself for not thinking about that.)**

Ra'iira The Friend** for the follow.**

Carolynagness** for the follow.**

LucySkywalker** for the follow.**

NightmareSpazz23** for the follow.**

**Sincerest apologies if I forgot anyone or misspelled names, etc.**

* * *

It was snowing when they finished Thursday night's detention in the greenhouses. The snowflakes drifted down and landed on Ginny's upturned face. Gasping in delight, she let her eyes slide closed. Draco shook his head. What was so wondrous about snow?

Her cheeks and nose glowed pink from the cold, and the Slytherin quickly grabbed her arm to usher her forward. He had enough trouble on his hands without having to deal with hypothermia as well. Eyes popping open at the unexpected touch, she lifted her gaze to his questioningly.

"The snow is coming down hard. We'd better head back before it gets worse," he explained. After studying his face, Ginny nodded in agreement. She firmly grasped his hand and lifted it off her arm. "I am quite capable of walking on my own, thank you." To make her point, the Gryffindor skipped ahead. The way her hair swished along her back with each bounce was oddly charming. Draco shook his head again, following her grudgingly.

When he came level with her, Ginny stated, "The stars are beautiful tonight." She tilted her head back as a smile spread across her face. Tonight, with Draco beside her, she would not think of Harry. Tonight she was going to relax and enjoy the company of a friend. It was easy for her to ignore her conflicted feelings about Harry's letter; Draco had the peculiar gift for pushing all other thoughts from her mind.

Her companion stared at her, his feet mechanically lifting and pushing him forward. What was it about her that made her the way she was? Where did all her wonder come from?

If Draco had been an artist, he supposed he would have sketched her like this, posed against a backdrop of snow and darkness with the stars twinkling down on her upturned face. Everything about her, from the smallest freckle to her sudden interesting in skipping, stood out. The whites of her eyes contrasted with the shinning brown. Laughter swirled around her face as she unexpectedly twirled with her arms outstretched. Catching a snowflake on her tongue, such a simple act to him, made her grin in delight.

There was so much joy in her that it blinded him. How could she still be so carefree, on the outside at least, after the War? She was either remarkably resilient or a fantastic actor.

Without warning, Ginny paused in her spinning to look over at him. Her face glowed under the starlight. She looked like a dream, one he could not touch for fear of shattering. Oblivious to his troubled mood, the Gryffindor lifted her chin resolutely, "Draco, I have something I want to show you."

The narrow-eyed expression on his face made her roll her eyes. He was so paranoid. It would have been funny if it had not been so heartbreaking. Sighing, she acknowledged that he had ample reason for his wariness.

"Relax," Ginny commanded with a shake of her head. "It's just a watch. I figured you had to be good at fixing things, what with the Vanishing Cabinets business and all that." After clearing her throat of its sudden tightness, she continued. This nonchalant attitude was harder to pull off than she had expected. The anger that lingered behind her façade made it even more difficult.

"I thought you could take a peek at it and maybe see what was wrong," she continued, directing her attention to his forehead rather than his eyes. It was easier that way. "The hands have been acting wacky lately. Well, more so than usual. Here, give me a second to find it."

It took a few minutes of fishing in her pockets, but Ginny finally let out a triumphant yell. In her hand was the wristwatch, which she promptly tossed to him.

Fumbling to keep hold of the watch with his gloves, he eventually steadied his hands and stared down at the tiny, nondescript black watch. The broken hands, decorated with pictures of her family, fluctuated from "Azkaban" to "home" and back again.

"It's been doing that ever since Fred and George used it in one of their 'experiments'," Ginny explained, smirking at some inside joke. He glanced up at her, eyebrows raised.

"Dad was never able to figure out what they did to it to mess it up. They're probably the ones who broke Mum's clock, too. Anyway, I thought you might be able to look at it, see what was wrong..." she trailed off with a shrug of her shoulders.

First her handkerchief (which he had yet to return) and now her watch? The reason she was giving it to him, he understood all too well, was to cement the fragile trust between them. By entrusting him with her personal items, she was allowing him a chance to prove that her doubts were misdirected. He hated how she made him feel so unworthy of it. Where had all his dignity, his pride gone?

In the past, he had hated asking others for help, even though most of the time he had desperately needed it. A royal screw-up, he had been. If he were being honest with himself, he would admit that he still was—perhaps even more so now than before. He had even thrown Professor Snape's advice in his face, and Draco had once viewed him as a second father. So how had Ginny managed to sneak under his walls and get him to accept her kindness?

As Draco dubiously inspected the watch, he noticed how Ginny's portrait was now wavering between "traveling" and "mortal peril." _How encouraging,_ he mused, his lips curving faintly. When he noticed Ginny studying him, he wiped the half-smile from his face.

Ginny reasoned that she had pushed him enough for today. "If you don't want to, that's fine. I can just have George look at it again," she stated, reaching for the watch. Her fingertips brushed his. Warmth raced up her hand to her arm and she withdrew it hurriedly. The quickness with which his eyes snapped up to hers was startling.

Why was he so jumpy? Moreover, why was she? After pondering her reaction, she found that she actually liked the unusual feeling. It made her feel normal in the oddest sense of the phrase. It took her to simpler times, when she was busy playing Quidditch and entertaining boyfriends on the side.

Draco's fingers closed around the watch with a reflexive snap. Hasty words threatened to leap from his tongue, but he restrained them. It was callous of her to dangle reparation in front of him and then snatch it back before he could grab it. This was his chance to settle the score, and he was not going to let it go. Then again, maybe that had been her plan all along. Let him proverbially hang himself and turn his own heart from the Dark Side. Either way, he could not let the opportunity go to waste—even if he was making it all too easy for her to reform him.

"No," the Slytherin replied smoothly, pocketing the watch. "No, that won't be necessary. I'll look at it and see what I can do." Seeing the delighted look in her eyes, he felt it was necessary to caution her. There was no need for her to get her hopes up only to have them crushed later on. He knew what that felt like. She did not deserve any more disappointments, no matter how trivial.

"I can't make any promises, Ginny. I might not be able to fix it." Nevertheless, he would try his hardest. Repairing broken things was what he did best, after all. That fact was a bit too ironic for him to appreciate at the moment.

Ignoring the startled look on his face, Ginny gave a shout and threw her arms around him. Her head pressed against his torso. A sort of airy, loose sensation crawled up her stomach upon contact. It felt like she was flying in a Woollongong Shimmy formation on her broom. She smiled into his cloak. It felt nice.

Abruptly, his muscles tightened, and she realized she still had her arms around him. Her cheeks heated as she hurriedly backed away. In the back of her mind, regret reared its distasteful head. She liked the way she felt near him—at ease, yet continuously caught off guard. Being with Harry had never felt like this. There were no surprises with him, no anticipation as she discovered another piece of his puzzle.

At once, awareness crashed down on her. She had compared Draco to Harry and found Harry lacking. Ashamed of her thoughts, the Gryffindor turned her head away to gaze at the distant tree line.

"Sorry. I don't know what came over me," she murmured, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

"It's fine. Just don't do it again," Draco replied tensely, shaking off the peculiar feeling of her arms around him. The scent of her shampoo, a combination of honeysuckle and sunshine, lingered on his cloak. He inhaled discreetly. It was not an offending smell, to be honest.

He remembered smelling it twice before: the first time, on the train at the beginning of the year; and the second time, when they had stumbled upon one another in the corridor after hours. That night was what had started this whole detention business.

He frowned as new realization hit him. If not for that accidental meeting, they would not be standing here with each other. There would be no exchanging smirks, snarky retorts, or hesitant smiles. He still would not know what it felt like for her to embrace him as if she actually cared.

Why did it matter so much? It never had before. Of course, before, he would never have wanted to hug her in the first place. Now that he had, he suddenly found that he... Well, perhaps _like_ was too strong a word. Her hugs were not unbearable. _Yes, that's much better._

"Is that a blush I see?"

Effectively snapped out of his thoughts, Draco returned his gaze to Ginny. She mock-gasped and peered into his face, "It _is_ a blush! Draco Malfoy is blushing!" Satisfaction shot through her when she realized that the hug had affected him as much as it had her. Apparently, Death Eater or not, he was still a boy, and she was still a girl.

Quickly shifting his features into a scowl, Draco shoved her away. _I have the oddest feeling that I've done this before._ However, he only succeeded in making her grin even more. "Sod off, Weasley. It's just hot out here, that's all." As if mocking him, the snow began to fall even harder. _Bloody cold front. _

"Just move!" the Slytherin commanded. "I don't fancy getting caught out of bed after curfew by Filch again. One week of you is enough to drive any bloke mad; two weeks would have me packed off to St. Mungo. People look at me as if I'm barmy as it is, and they don't need any more encouragement from the likes of you."

Snickering loud enough for him to hear, the Gryffindor stepped back and resumed walking. "I thought we agreed to go by Draco and Ginny," she reminded him. A roll of the eyes was the only sign he had even heard her. "Oh, don't be like that! Here, I know what'll cheer you up. Listen and tell me who you think of."

He began to protest but hushed when he heard the familiar voice coming from Ginny's mouth.

"Oh, Draco, don't forget that a Hogsmead visit is coming up. You don't want me going by myself, do you? I'd be so bored without you. Blaise is taking Daphne, and they'll be too busy snogging in Madam Puddifoot's to have a decent conversation. Tracy and Theodore are going together, and I don't want to be a third wheel. Millicent isn't going at all (I don't think anyone's asked her and she hates going by herself). So you see, I'll have no one to talk to! You _have_ to go with me. Hogsmead is so very dreary when you're alone."

It was all he could do to continuing walking without tripping over his own feet. "Bloody heck, Weasley! For a second I actually thought Pansy was here." The resemblance was uncanny, and he had to hold back a smile. Slytherin was certainly missing out on a brilliant witch. Clearly, the Sorting Hat was growing more senile by the year.

"That's the general idea," was her smug reply. _She's enjoying this too much_, he decided. It was time she felt the sting of her own hex, as Zabini liked to say.

"Oh, I'm dearly sorry, but I don't believe I can. You see, the Wrackspurts have been very active lately and I fear they stole my new shoes. The Headmistress said I couldn't go without shoes again. The last time I did, I stepped on a Nargle, who cursed my foot for its troubles. I had to sit in the Infirmary for an entire day before the swelling would go down, even with Madam Pomphrey's potions. After much fuss, I was finally able to track down the poor creature and apologize. But the day was not completely wasted, as it taught me a valuable lesson. I will never walk barefoot to Hogsmead again. The Nargles won't take kindly to another mishap."

Rather than discouraging her as he had hoped, his quick reply made Ginny's face glow with eagerness. Finally, a challenge! While he did not have the skill she did (he was much too stiff and awkward with the deliverance), he made up for it with nifty improvising.

They went back and forth, exchanging impressions with all the seriousness of a duel, until the absurdness of it caught up with them. Here they were, one former Death Eater and one not-quite member of the Order of the Phoenix (an Honorary Member was still a member, as she had stubbornly declared to her mother during the Battle of Hogwarts). Yet they were behaving like, well, like _friends_. It was ridiculous.

When they met each other's gaze, they exploded with laughter. Ginny resorted to leaning against Draco's shoulder as she gulped down a giggle. Draco made no comment when her hair lightly grazed against his neck, though his brain did go fuzzy for a moment.

After the last snicker died out, they resumed their trek back to the castle.

"How did you get so good at imitating people anyway?" Draco inquired, struggling to keep his face impassive. It did not help that she was walking close enough that her hand brushed his every few seconds.

Grin dimming to a mere quirk of the lips, Ginny gathered her thoughts. As they paused in their walk to settle on the nearby bench, he watched her stare up at the stars. It was too easy to let himself gaze into her eyes and study how the starlight danced in them. When had she turned from enemy to friend? _And sweet Salazar, has it actually been less than a week since this eccentric relationship began budding? _It had seemed like forever to him.

"It's kind of silly, actually," Ginny began with a wistful smile, clasping her hands between her knees. "When I was little, while my other brothers were playing Quidditch, Ron and I would play a game. We'd try to see who could come closest to sounding like Mum when she was in her various moods, be it angry, forgetful, calm, sad, or happy. From there it went to Dad, and Bill, and Charlie, and so forth. We had a lot of fun back then. But, as all children do, we grew up. Ron began playing with Fred and George, while I was left to amuse myself. That's how I ended up stealing their broomsticks and flying around on them. Well, not so much flying as falling. It's strange though, you know? After all this time, I still miss that silly game we played."

I miss Ron, was what she meant to say. Though he was at Hogwarts with her, he had his own life now; so many other things took up his time. He was not just her big brother anymore. He was a boyfriend, best mate, and hero. She missed being able to sit down and do something as simple as play a game with him.

A sudden weight on her shoulder brought her out of her thoughts. Ginny blinked up at Draco and furrowed her brow in confusion. Holding her gaze, he ignored the panicky flutters in his stomach. He would not be much of a friend if he did not comfort her when she needed comforting. It was the right thing to do, even if it made his Slytherin heart bemoan his lost pride. Sweat broke out on the back of his neck.

"It's not silly," he began slowly. "It brought you and your brother together. Something like that should never be taken for granted. You never know when you'll need that connection. You don't miss stuff like that until you don't have it anymore."

"You sound like you're speaking from personal experience," she told him softly.

"I am."

The Gryffindor reached up her hand and placed it on his. Her warmth seeped into his skin.

"Thank you."

"For what?" Draco questioned, leaning towards her unconsciously. When he noticed what he was doing, he stopped. _Idiot._

"For listening. And for trusting me to do the same."

He had no reply to that other than a slow nod.

* * *

***A Woollongong Shimmy is a move in Quidditch where the Chasers fly in a zig-zag motion to confuse opposing Chasers. **

**Next up, Pansy and Draco have a heart-to-heart! This update shouldn't take as long, since my beta reader, Marinka, has already read over it. Thanks to everyone for sticking with me!**


	28. Chapter 28

**Thanks to the following:**

roni2010-tealyellow** for the favorite and reviews! Thanks for the feedback, and I hope you continue to enjoy :)) **

Lobos506** for the follow and favorite :)**

alenkor** for the favorite!**

noone297** for the review. Thanks! I like the whole "Back to Hogwarts" idea and Draco and Ginny being together, so I just tried to combine the two in my own way. I hope I don't disappoint ;) **

**So sorry if I forgot anyone, misspelled names, etc.**

* * *

The common room was empty when he returned. For that, he was grateful. With nothing more than shadows for company, Draco slumped down on the couch and stared into the fireplace. The flames flickered like his thoughts, whipping from one memory to the next. Ginny had fit against him so snugly, and for a brief moment, he had deluded himself into believing that everything would work out. She made him feel normal, safe even.

What was he doing? Really, what was he trying to accomplish? Fooling one naïve Gryffindor would not make up for what he had done. He was a screw-up, plain and simple. Worse, he was a cowardly screw-up who did not have the courage to stand up for himself, to say no. Even now, his forearm was itching in remembered pain. Oh, why had he not taken Dumbledore's offer when he had the chance? If he had, the Dark Mark would not have been branded into his arm. The indignity was the least of his pain. That one scar meant he could never live a normal life. If he even tried to, eventually his mistakes would catch up with him. They always did.

Whether it had been intentional or not, Draco had noticed Ginny staring at his forearm during detention. The usual questions had burned in her eyes:

Why did he do it? Did it hurt? How can he live with such a reminder? Does he regret it? The worst one was, "If he could go back and change things, would he still have taken it?" No clear answer stood out to him yet. Trade his freedom for his father's or mother's life? No one should ever have to make such a decision.

The first few times he had caught her looking at his arm, he had longed to shout that yes, it was still there, and no, it was not going away any time soon. If it had bothered her that much, why was she so insistent that they become friends? Was it just Gryffindor pride, a chance to say that she had made the proud Draco Malfoy beg for forgiveness? The possibility left a sour taste in his mouth.

He had half a mind to tell her he did not want the Dark Mark removed, even if there was a way to. It was a scar now, a reminder of past wounds. Every time he stood in front of the mirror and gazed at his uncovered arm, he recalled his past mistakes. The sight of it kept him in line in a way no person, not even Ginny Weasley, could.

If he had not even the courage to accept an offer of help from Dumbledore, who was he to accept her friendship? She had no reason to trust him, so why did she insist on becoming his friend?

Who was he to change? Did he really deserve it after what he had done? He was not a saint like Potter was, and truthfully, he had no wish to be. The world just did not make sense when Ginny smiled at him and he smiled back. It felt so _wrong_.

Father had once told him that the only cure for guilt was to move on with his head held high as if it were the rest of the world in the wrong. The maxim had sustained him through his years, filling him with an arrogance that now wearied him. Past and present burdens weighed on his heart. Nothing he did now could ever change what he had done then.

"So why am I even trying?" he murmured to himself, letting his eyes trail the flickering flames. The heat did nothing to warm his chilled body; the trifle defeat drained him further.

A familiar voice suddenly spoke up from behind him. "I'm wondering the same thing."

It should not have surprised him. After all, Pansy had always had a remarkable talent for showing up when he needed her most. It comforted him to know that some things, at least, never changed—not even when the people themselves did.

"You've changed, Draco," she continued softly, as if sensing his thoughts. Draco frowned as he remembered Ginny saying something similar.

"**You don't let others dictate your reactions and thoughts like before. Instead, you're beginning to think for yourself. Just look at us! Before, you would have never sat down and talked to me like this. It shows how much you've changed." **

_Have I?_ he wondered. _Or am I merely refusing to see the truth? I am a coward, plain and simple._ _Maybe the past few days have been nothing more than wishful thinking. Once a Snake, always a Snake. Before, I found that comforting, knowing that I would always have somewhere I fit in. But now, after seeing what could have been if I had a little backbone, I have come to resent that motto. It means I can never change. Not even for her. _

The girl sighed when the silence lengthened between them. Accepting the quiet for what it was, a moment of reflection he desperately needed, she walked around the couch to sit beside him. Like him, she trained her eyes on the fireplace. Her lips twitched when he spoke up at last.

"Pansy?" he whispered. Her eyes finally met his. "Yes Draco?"

Why had he spent so long treating her like a house-elf? The girl had been his best friend for so long. They had shared secrets and dreams together, had late night talks over cold tea. While he vented his anger, she listened patiently and never once complained. In fact, he preferred her to Zabini, who was prone to making remarks that hit a little too close to home.

"Pansy," he began cautiously, "do you think a person can ever really change? You and Blaise know me better than anyone else, better than I know myself, actually. You would never lie to me. So tell me, can you see me becoming someone... Well, maybe not quite _good_, but perhaps not as bad?"

The young woman took a few minutes to gather her thoughts. For that, Draco was grateful, since he needed the time to sort through his own. When Pansy did speak, his head jerked up so fast he was surprised he did not hear an accompanying "_snap_."

"I suppose it all depends on your motive. Why do you want to change? Is it because of the Weasley girl? I see how you look at her, Draco. It's as if she is the redemption you keep reaching for but can never grasp."

"Oh, Draco." She sighed setting aside the real source of her heartache. "What was wrong with the old you? Yes, you were a lot angrier and pushed us away sometimes, but at least you were my...my friend then. Now I feel as if I don't even know you anymore. Who are you Draco? Who is the new man?" Pansy demanded, her dark eyes staring at him accusingly. Beneath the anger was pain—pain he had caused her. He was undeserving of her, just as he was undeserving of Ginny.

Ignoring the gasp he received, Draco suddenly reached over and dragged Pansy into his arms. As he gently pushed her head onto his shoulder and smoothed her hair with one hand, he smiled.

"I've never told anyone this except for Mother, but I love you, Pansy. If I had a sister, I image it would feel something like this." He frowned when a muffled sob racked her body. This was supposed to make her feel better, not worse. Merlin, would he ever understand girls?

"You've shown me more kindness and sat through more of my tantrums than anyone else. I just want to say thank you. I might tell Blaise more than I tell you, but it's only because he has a way of making me do what I should do even when I don't want to do it. You're my sister, the one who listens and helps me vent. You've held my hand through so much rubbish." They shared a mirthless chuckle, Pansy's thick with suppressed tears, as they acknowledged how true that was.

"You asked me who I am now. The answer is that I'm someone who understands what he wants. I want to be able to walk down Diagon Alley without clutching my wand and looking over my shoulder every second. I want to be someone who doesn't have to turn my face away when a child runs into his family's arms. I want to be able to look Potter in the eye and nod without hatred festering in my chest. I want to be a better man, Pansy. And I owe that man to you; Blaise, arrogant prat that he is; and yes, even the little Weasley." His voice cracked at the end, further embarrassing him.

"I can't do it without you all. I still might not be able to. I think... I think that's what scares me the most; that after everything, all the hard work and the pain, it still won't be enough—that _I_ won't be enough."

They sat there for the longest, doing nothing more than holding one another, until Pansy remarked how sappy they were becoming. She eased out of his arms and wiped her face quickly. Stupid, blind boy that he was, he was still her best friend. He looked past her snide comments, her perchance for gossip, and her selfishness and saw her for who she was: a lonely girl looking for attention the only way she knew how. She loved him for it, more than he would ever know.

When he saw the liquid glistening in her eyes, he smiled and brushed the strands of brown hair out of her face. "Goodnight, Pansy. I'll see you tomorrow." Rising to his feet and striding away, the Slytherin acknowledged her whispered reciprocation with a wave of his hand.

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**Well, how was Pansy? Did she seem IC, but slightly changed from normal perspective? I know in The Power of Flight I made her out to be very different, but I think I like this Pansy more. Was her and Draco's relationship captured right? Any thoughts on how I could use her later on? Thanks for reading and for all the lovely reviews! ;) **

**Beta reading done by **Marinka** as usual! (P.S. if you see any mistakes, it's my fault. I have the terrible habit of revising my work _after_ I have it beta'ed.) **


	29. Chapter 29

**So sorry it took me this long, but my computer was having some trouble. Anyways, thanks to the following:**

Lobos506** for the review. I'm going to try! :)**

Brielle Montegomery** for the review. I feel terrible about taking so long lol. And yeah, I sympathized with her too. At first I didn't mean to write her that specific way, but Pansy kind of took the chapter into her own hands ;) **

beautyinthemild** for follow, favorite, and review. Thank you so much! I really enjoyed writing Pansy that way. Hopefully it won't take me as long to get a new chapter up. **

hatebelow** for the lovely review! Thank you for taking the time to review! :) As for Pansy crying about conversation or how Draco feels about her, it's sort of a combination of both, I think. Then again, it's up to the reader how they prefer to take it. From the beginning of the story, I've wanted to write something like that between Draco and Pansy. **

Guest** for the review. Yeah, Pansy was kind of flat in the books, and I really enjoyed writing about her like that. Hope you continue to like it! :)**

suspense button presser** for the favorite and lovely reviews! First off, thanks for the detailed review. I did make a lot of mistakes, and it helps when people ask about them so I can correct them :) I needed snow for a specific scene, so I tried to make it sound like it was an abnormal cold front. I know it was kind of a stretch lol. And I'm glad you decided to come back to Fanfiction! Good luck on your own stories ;) **

**And I'm really glad you like my style of writing. Also, good luck with that relationship hehe! Your review inspired a part of chapter 31, so if I don't have to change some things, you'll get to see Ron confront Draco after Quidditch tryouts ;)**

BillaRayne** for the follow!**

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Thatwasacinch** for the follow!**

Tom Riddle Minor** for the lovely review! Thank you so much, and I hope the rest of the story doesn't disappoint :) **

**Very sorry if I forgot anyone!**

* * *

When Ginny saw Draco leaning against the Entrance Hall doors on Friday afternoon, she discreetly gave him a smile. The Slytherin acknowledged her greeting with a nod. He seemed preoccupied by something, only meeting her gaze for a second before turning his attention back to the floor. Whatever the reason for his inattentiveness, she would find out about it in a few minutes. The troubled shadows in his eyes concerned her more than it should have.

Weaving gracefully through the crowd of students, Ginny motioned with her head towards the doors. It would be better for them both if no one saw them leaving together. They had agreed that their friendship was best kept secret, least Ron or Draco—or worse, _both_—be sent to Azkaban for duelling with intent to kill.

Although her reasoning was sound, it pained Draco to sink to subterfuge again. Why must he sneak away and lie to his housemates as if he were committing a crime? His current sins were heavy enough as it was without adding to them. Logic, however, told him that no one would ever accept his relationship with Ginny. If they were to announce that they were friends, either one of them would be in the infirmary within a day.

Nevertheless, it still hurt. If he could move on, why was everyone else stuck in the past? Merlin, if Ginny could forgive him for what he did—rather by repairing the Vanishing Cabinets, let Greyback do—to her brother Bill, why could the rest of the world not do the same? He and his family had destroyed many lives, but in the end, theirs had suffered the same fate. He was just so tired of fighting. Where was that peace Potter preached about?

Eventually, Ginny managed to sneak out the door to meet him. The smirk playing on her lips teased a reluctant smile from him. "Alright, let's get the torture over with," she said as she began making her way down the beaten path towards the Forbidden Forest. The wind tossed her hair into her face, but she made no move to brush it away.

This was his chance; she seemed in a talkative mood. All he had to do was open his mouth and ask her about it. For some reason, however, Draco could not make his lips form the words. Why was it so hard to ask a simple question? It had been haunting him for the past two days. Then, when he finally found the right time to ask her, he froze up. Why was he so tongue-tied?

It was not because he was afraid of hurting her. He hated how the thought even crossed his mind. Why would he care if he hurt her? He never had before.

Nevertheless, the answer smugly niggled in the back of his brain. Because, however unfeasible it seemed, they were friends now. Yes, Draco Malfoy actually cared whether what he said made someone feel bad or not. Well, not _someone,_ really—just Ginny. Maybe Pansy. But no, Pansy knew him well enough that she could tell what he truly meant. He did not have to worry about her.

Fear of hurting Ginny was not the reason for his reluctance, however. Truthfully, Draco was afraid of how she would answer his question. What if he was right? His jaw clenched. Everything he had worked for over the past few days would have been for nothing. He would loose her.

On the other hand, what if he was wrong? There could still be a chance for them. Could he throw that chance away by giving up before he found out? If he never asked her about it, how would he know? The decision would haunt him for the rest of his life, and he would always wonder "what if?" He took a deep breath. Merlin, he hated having friends. Depending on others made him vulnerable, made him _weak. _

Ginny started when he suddenly stopped walking and turned towards her. His grey eyes stared down at her like storm clouds. If she strained her ears, she might even hear faint rumbling.

His voice was low, almost a whisper. "Ginny, what was in the letter?"

The question had been hovering on the tip of his tongue ever since yesterday morning. All night he had tossed and turned, unable to sleep as he speculated on what Potter had told her. Even though it had nearly killed him, he had not mentioned the letter Thursday night.

_One night_, he had vowed. _One night for her to relax and to not worry about Potter. One night for her to walk beside me without him on her mind. _It was disgusting how much he cared whether she had actually focused on him last night or whether Scarhead's name had lurked in the back of her mind.

It had both pleased and unsettled him how she had not referred to the letter herself. Did she not trust him enough to talk to him about it? Was that why she said nothing? She had every reason not to trust him, after all. However, he had thought they were working past their insecurities. _I guess I was wrong about that, too._

Alternatively, she could have not wanted to discuss Potter because she was over him. She could have finally moved on and put the boy behind her. The possibility, small as it was, made him bite his tongue hard enough o draw blood to keep from grinning like a fool.

After she pushed aside her shock, Ginny slowly replied, "Nothing. It was nothing." The way she addressed his shirt instead of his face would have been comical at any other time. As it was, he balled his fists in frustration. For once, he wished she would just be honest with him, without any reservations.

"Ginny..." Again, a quiet whisper, almost inaudible. The skin around his eyes was tight, and two grooves slashed his forehead.

Sighing, she twirled a strand of hair around her finger. Why did he have to say her name like that? So...so _compellingly_? It made it very difficult to brush him off. Her cheeks warmed.

"Fine," she growled, ignoring the sensation. "He wants me to meet him in Hogsmead this Saturday. Said he couldn't wait any longer and just wants to talk to me. I promised Hermione I'd go. Are you happy now?"

_No, not really_, his mind supplied helpfully. Before he could say something incredibly stupid, Draco resumed his trek down the path.

_Nitwit_, he scolded himself. _What did you expect? Her to toss him to the wayside and run to you instead? He's her boyfriend, the savior of the world; while you're a good-for-nothing Death Eater she can't even call her friend when in public. Of _course_ she's going to hear him out. They'll have a nice long talk about how much they love each other, he'll propose, and they'll live happily ever after. Big deal. Get over it, you idiot! _

Surprised by his sudden movement, Ginny blinked and hurried after him. Her long legs quickly caught her up to him. Shooting her a fleeting grimace, he lengthened his stride. "Draco, what's the matter? You look like you've been kicked by a hippogriff. Draco!" Annoyance sided with her confusion.

The silence stretched between them as Draco twisted his lips together in a grimace. Absently stuffing his hands in his trouser pockets, he felt a crumpled heap inside. He slowed down enough to pull it out. A wrinkled, worn handkerchief rested in his hand; in the corner was a hand-stitched "G" that curved gently on itself.

It had been so long ago, it seemed, since she had given him the embroidered handkerchief. He had forgotten about it and only stuffed it in every new pair of pants because it kept falling out when he changed.

Ginny paused beside him, leaning over curiously. When she saw what was in his hand, she exclaimed, "My handkerchief! You still have it." She looked up in delight, her hands reaching out to grasp his arm.

Furrowing his brow, Draco nodded once. "Yes. Here," he murmured, pressing it against her fingers.

"You even had it washed. It looks better now than it did before." A small exaggeration, but Ginny felt it was worth it when she saw the ghost of a smile on his face. His reply was full of false acerbity that even he winced at.

"Yeah, well, I told the house-elves to wash it twice to get all the Weasley germs off. I wouldn't want to contaminate myself further. Merlin knows what sort of diseases I've gotten already."

Nodding in mock seriousness, the Gryffindor fingered the frayed hem fondly. She looked up when he resumed his walk at a slower pace than before. When she was sure he was not looking, Ginny lifted the handkerchief to her face and inhaled. The memorable scent of mint, old parchment, and snowy winter nights washed over her. It was cold and sharp, like a gust of fresh mountain air.

Smiling, she carefully tucked it in her pocket and strolled forward.

They continued down the dirt path until it merged with a rocky trail. Moisture glistened on the stones. _It must have drizzled last night_, Ginny mused as she skirted a rock jutting out towards her. As she placed her right foot down, the stone underneath loosened. Her balance off-put, Ginny lurched forward before grabbing the nearest object. Her foot twisted sideways, and she held back a wince.

Draco scowled when he felt the Gryffindor latch onto his left forearm. When he looked over at her, the grimace slipped off his face. "What did you do now?" he asked wearily, bending down to examine her leg. She lifted her chin and released his arm. "Nothing. I'm fine."

He shook his head as Ginny surged forward determinedly. However, when she rested her weight solely on her right leg, a pained hiss betrayed her. With a roll of his eyes, Draco grabbed her arm and guided her towards a large rock resting beside the trail. "Sit." He ignored her protests and carefully pushed her down on it.

As he reached for her pants leg, Ginny lightly slapped his hand away. "I'm fine. It's just sore, that's all. I don't need your help." She bit her lip at the expression on his face. It was as if he had drawn the shutters on his eyes. The light in them was muffled at best, snuffed out at worst. "Draco, I'm sorry. But really, I'm fine." She hated others helping her when she was capable to helping herself. Nevertheless, the blankness of his face troubled her.

He nodded and rose to his feet without a sound. Turning to resume his walk down to the Forbidden Forest, he paused at her harsh exhale.

"Draco, wait. I... You're right. I'm not fine," she admitted quietly. It was for his sake, she told herself. If she distracted him, it would make it easier for her to find out what was bothering him.

Caught by her rueful tone, the Slytherin sighed, trudging back towards her. "Alright, let me see. We've already established that I'm no Healer, but Mother's treated enough of my sprained wrists and ankles that I know how to take care of them. Now stretch your leg out and roll your pants up to the knee."

Once she had done that, he grasped her white ankle and gently rotated it. Her gasp of pain made him stop. Fingering the small bump above the bone, he mused, "Well, it's not broken at least. It is badly sprained, though, so you shouldn't put too much weight on it. I think I remember the spell Mother used." Seeing her wary look, he smirked. "Don't worry, Weasley. I'd never hurt you. Well, not on purpose. Maybe under certain circumstances. Hmm, that's a nasty-looking bruise coming up there."

While Draco focused on Ginny's ankle, a dark red blush seared her cheeks. As his fingers swept across her skin, she swallowed. This was _not_ like shaking his hand.

The airy sensation in her stomach exploded into a full gravity-deprived airsickness. She felt as if she was floating, or maybe freefalling—yes, that was it. She was freefalling with no broom or wand in sight. It was terrifying, yet exhilarating at the same time. Nothing had ever compared to her love of flying before; this felt almost as good. Now if only she could find out what "this" actually was.

She bit the inside of her cheek in frustration.

Draco trailed his finger across her foot lightly. Her subtle shiver went unnoticed. Frowning, he reached into his trouser pocket and withdrew his wand. While he could not heal it completely, he could ease her pain until he got her to Madam Pomfrey. The question was what spell he should use. He chewed his bottom lip thoughtfully.

Finally, he pointed his wand at her swollen ankle and stated, "_Heil_." A relieved sigh rushed past Ginny's lips as heat seeped through her skin, easing the tense muscles. The sound made Draco smirk in satisfaction.

Getting to his feet, he held out his hand to help her up. She grimaced but grabbed it anyway and hauled herself off the rock. The first step was wobbly, but she quickly regained her confidence when she found that the pain in her ankle was nearly nonexistent.

"Excellent. Now let's get you back to the castle."

Ginny turned to face him with her hands on her hips. "Excuse me? I'm perfectly fine now, thank you. We'd better go before Hagrid realizes what time it is and sees that we're late. Unless you'd _rather_ get another week of detention with me," she added smugly.

Her ploy worked, and he scowled before stalking past her, muttering under his breath about "idiotic Gryffindors who are too stubborn for their own good." Even though the ache in her ankle was slowly coming back with each step, Ginny followed him with a self-satisfied grin.

"So, why are we going to see Hagrid?" she questioned after a few minutes, taking care not to loose her balance on the moistened rocks again. Walking ahead of her, the Slytherin rolled his eyes. "If you had actually listened to Professor Sprout earlier, you would know." His lips twitched when he heard her "_Hmph!_"

Conceding, he replied, "If you _must_ know, we're to pick up a rare fungus the oaf has been cultivating in the Forbidden Forest. Sprout wants to use it in her third year classes on Monday. You would know this if you hadn't been so busy doodling hearts and little broomsticks on your parchment."

"Those weren't hearts! They were Quaffles," she retorted defensively, struggling to keep a blush off her face. What was it with her blushing all of a sudden? Being around Draco had her doing it left and right. It was maddening! "And the 'little broomsticks' were extremely accurate representations of my Firebolt."

Draco gave an undignified snort. "You call those Quaffles? Any ball looking like _that_ would be transfigured at least three times before Hooch would allow it on the pitch. The broomsticks were nice though, I'll admit. Where did you learn to draw like that?" Though his tone was casual, Ginny could sense the curiosity behind his words.

Smiling, Ginny answered, "I take Art class. I've always liked to doodle, but I've never really been good at it. I needed another class period, so McGonagall suggested Magical Art or Muggle Art. To me, drawing isn't drawing if you're using your wand, so I decided to try the Muggle class. It's actually quite fun. It takes the place of my Herbology class now, since I dropped it after fifth year. I got a decent O.W.L. in the class, but I didn't see taking it to the N.E.W.T. level. I mean, what do I need Herbology for in the future? I already know I'm going to play for the Holyhead Harpies."

Merlin's beard, was she rambling?

"Hmm, that's alright, I guess. But if you actually wanted to win the European Cup, you would join the Chudley Cannons. They are the best, after all." It might have been just her imagination, but she thought she detected smugness in his voice.

"Even Wood joined them. You never played on his team, did you?" He continued speaking without pausing for her answer. "His last year was '93 to '94, my second year on the Slytherin team. If I recall correctly, you joined in the '95 to '96 season, as the '94 to '95 was cancelled during the Triwizard Tournament. Don't look so surprised, Weasley. I kept tabs on every new player, especially on the Gryffindor team." The distance between them increased as Draco lengthened his stride again.

Ginny bit her lip to keep from laughing at his apparent discomfort. "Of course, Malfoy. Of course."

"I did!" he called over his shoulder with a huff. "It wasn't just you. And stop snickering! I can hear you even if I can't see you."

* * *

**Next up, Ginny meets Harry in Hogsmead. **


End file.
